


Albert Caine: Beneath A Moonless Night

by EveryDayIsHalloweenForMe



Series: Halloween Horror Nights Icons [1]
Category: HHN - Fandom, Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 36,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayIsHalloweenForMe/pseuds/EveryDayIsHalloweenForMe
Summary: Everyone knows Albert Caine, The Caretaker. However do you know how he got there? Do you know his childhood fears? His first love? What turned a genius surgeon and mortician into a deadly occultist bent on finding the secrets locked within the human soul? Who was Cindy's mother? How did he build his cult? Well, if you'd be so kind as to allow me I shall tell you...





	1. October's Child is born for Woe

Albert Jebediah Caine. That was the name they gave me.

Albert Jebediah Caine, born October thirteenth, eight-teen twenty at five thirteen AM. Seven pounds and thirteen ounces. Grey eyes, brown wisps of hair on top my skull, and a new found life brimming with possibility.

My mother holding me close as I look up admiring her silently. The midwives whispered in awe of how quietly I had been birthed. My mother nearly died carrying me, however as I left her womb and took my first breath it was frighteningly calm. We had both survived and cherished each other for the life given to both of us.

  
The door opened with a loud intrusive thud, my mother slightly jumping in startlement.

"Oh Henry! Come, look upon our child." My mother smiled, no longer looking to me.

She was trying to hold back tears of joy for reasons I did not know.

"Henry...look." She beckoned before turning back to me, my eyes widening at her beauty.

Soon another figure appeared over her shoulder.

It was a dark candle lit room and I could barely make out the shape at first. This person looked different than my mother or the midwives, another species of person perhaps.

  
"God in heaven, he has your eyes! Nora, he has you're beautiful eyes." The other figure spoke, it's voice deep and not soft like my mother's.

"Look Henry, he has your wonderful hair." Mother smiled brushing my head with her soft touch.

"Albert, it's Daddy! Look Daddy's here!" My mother grinned tilting me to the other figure.

I looked to this person...my Daddy, unsure of the large looming figure.

"Nora I told you, I want him to grow up respectful." The figure spoke, looking to my mother and not me.

"But Henry, just while he's a baby-"

"No. He shall refer to us only as Mother and Father. He's my son, I know what's best." He spoke firmly.

  
My mother nodded submissively and held me close to her.

"Yes Henry." She answered quietly.

Her lips pulled into a small smile again as she studied me, how I love her smile.

"Albert, Mother and Father are here. Mother and Father love you so much." She brought her face to mine and kissed my cheek warmly.

 

 

The years passed, and I aged.

Growing into a fine young boy, I was now all of five years old and proud of that fact, thank you very much.

My head was now full of thick straight brunette hair and my eyes still as grey as the day I was birthed. I had learned to speak fairly well, and now could speak my full name.

I knew my father's full name, Henry Jacob Caine, though I was only allowed to call him Father.

My mother's name was beautiful just as she was, Nora Abigail Caine, but I only ever wanted to refer to her as Mother.

  
Apparently, I had learned over dinner one night when Father wasn't home, that Father had come up with my name after his own father's name but Mother had given me my middle name. She said middle names are most important, though I wasn't really sure how or why she thought that but I didn't give it much thought.

Father worked as a lawyer, what that was I didn't know yet but it must be hard because he wouldn't come home until very late at night - usually after I was already in bed.

  
Mother loved reading, she had taken to teaching me how to read but it took me some time to learn. She was proud of me for my age but I wanted to do better, to show her I could do it well. That I could do it very very well.

I wasn't satisfied with normal children's books, like The Ugly Duckling, no.

No I wanted something more advanced.

Father always had interesting books on the shelves in his study. His study which Mother and I weren't supposed to go in but I was always curious about.

And when he wasn't home I was highly inclined to investigate the forbidden room.

I had swiped a book or two from his shelves, they were medical journals of sorts, all about biology and the human skeletal system.

Where the words intrigued me, the pictures...well they enchanted me.

  
Mother was unsure of the books when she caught me with them but when I read aloud to her and showed great interest she allowed me to continue reading them.

She even stated to our maid, Annie O'Claire, that one day I may turn out to be a doctor and how proud she'd be if there was a doctor in the family.

  
Of course! A doctor!

Yes, that's a brilliant idea, Mother.

A doctor.

Doctor Albert Caine, yes I did like the sound of that. Even at age five.

  
We didn't leave the house often, I wasn't really one for playing with the other children when I could be with my mother, however every Sunday morning it happened.

I would be woken from a sound warm sleep to Father yelling about having to awaken so 'bloody early' in the morning.

Mother would be getting ready and Annie would come dress me as Mother and Father's voices grew loud.

Then Mother, Father, and I would walk to church across town to conserve money as my father would say.

At church we'd sit through the long sermon, however the pastor always managed to capture my full attention.

The way in which he spoke, Reverend Beck used such vocabulary in such a manner that it simply shook your soul to know it as truth. He was a well spoken man, gentle yet commanding.

Father called Reverend Beck a zealot but Mother and I viewed the man as a great leader.

  
After church I'd be sent to go along with the other children outside to play during the second half of the sermon. I didn't want to but Mother insisted it was good for me, so I obeyed.

The other children were mostly boring to me. They knew nothing about the human body, their nimble minds full of foolish tales of talking frog princes and jump rope rhymes.

There was nothing at all to be actually discussed with them.

Then, could you believe it, they would start ostracizing me as strange!

They found me quiet and dull to speak to because their small minds couldn't handle my knowledge.

I'd frequently be left out of games, and shoved from the see-saw for the other brutish children to take from me.

I ended up taking to finding myself beneath a tree, my bible open in hand as I read about Lazarus and John the Baptist.

  
One day as I sat beneath the shady oak tree, tuning out the sounds of other children at play, reading about one of the many miracles preformed by the lamb of god I heard a voice.

"Do you mind if I sit at this tree too?" A small voice questioned.


	2. Beneath The Churchyard Tree

"Do you mind if I sit at this tree too?" A small voice questioned.

  
Furrowing my brows I looked up from my bible and to my side to find the most intriguing sight. It was a girl. I little girl only a year younger than myself, a little girl I had seen before in church and on the play ground but whom I had never yet spoken to.

  
"No, I don't mind." I answered.

  
"Oh thank you." She sighed as she plopped down beside me onto the grass, her back leaning against the tree. She had long curly black hair, and marvelous dark brown eyes. She wore a green dress and ivory boots. Turning my sight from her back to my bible I was unsure of the situation but continued to read.

  
"What are you reading?" She asked from over my shoulder.

  
Sitting up a bit straighter I looked to her, her eyes wide examining the worn pages.

  
"I'm reading the bible." I answered simply, expecting a reaction along the lines of how I was odd for doing so instead of playing like the other children.

  
"Oh, is it good?" She asked, reaching for my bible. My eyes widened, she was going to take it.

  
Quickly I pulled it away as I looked to her alarmed at her thievery. Father took my books the same way as this girl when I wouldn't put down my books at his command. I was swift at this game from experience.

"I'm sorry, I was only going to look at it." She explained withdrawing her hand back to her lap," I didn't mean anything by it."

  
Raising a brow I resituated myself and then answered, untrusting of her. "Yes, it's very interesting. You should read yours sometime, though Reverend Beck reads it the best." I explained.

"Yeah, he goes on about it all the time. I should really listen more, but I can't when there's such interesting things outside the window." The girl explained, she seemed chatty - something I wasn't used to.

"You should listen better. Reverend Beck- wait, the window?" I found myself taken from my own trail of thought to what she had said.

"Yes, I sit right beside the window. I know it's stained glass, but in the corner there's a piece of glass you can see right through quite easily. There's always such wonderful things that catch my eye. Like birds, and butterflies, and once in a while even a rabbit or squirrel. It's hard to pay attention in church when they're such beautiful things right before your eyes." She smiled explaining herself, caught in her own amusement at what she had seen through the window. "Don't you ever look out the window?" She asked, her head turning to look to me as a big black curl hung over her shoulder.

"Not really, no. My family doesn't sit near the windows, we sit near the aisle way. There's nothing to really notice or concentrate on but Reverend Beck." I answered.

"Oh." She said simply, almost with pity.

The air was silent for a moment as I honestly could not find a reply to give.

"I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" She asked, a bit of a dolefulness in her ebony brown eyes.

Sitting up a bit straighter my brows clenched in abashment, "Bothering me?" I repeated perhaps a bit colder than I even intended. I studied her for a moment before speaking again, "Not at all."

Her face instantly beamed a wide relieved grin, "Oh good! My name is Lilybelle. Lilybelle Judith Hope. What's your's?" She offered her small hand out, her cheeks growing pink from cheeriness.

I looked to her, a brow raised as the other stay clenched, studying her again and now her outstretched hand. This was different to say the least, most of the other children left me be yet she was actually attempting to be friendly. Slowly I reached my hand out and our skin touched as we shook hands with each other.

"Albert Caine." I answered her, my voice honest.

"Albert, what a handsome name." She smiled.

Her almond brown eyes lit up with joy as she and I shook hands and in that moment I could not help but feel my lips pull in a soft and gentle smile. I had just made my first real friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter I know, but I'm already working on Chapter 3 so don't be too upset with me ~


	3. One Rainy Day In Late Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very sad and dark chapter and I felt I should give a trigger warning here for the faint of heart.

Time went on and Lilybelle and I found ourselves every Sunday sitting beneath that oak tree. Sometimes we'd read, sometimes we'd talk, sometimes she'd insist on getting me to play some sort of game like eye spy or a guessing game of some sort. 

My mother thought it good for me that I had found someone my age to spend time with, even if only on Sundays at church. My father, well he gave it no bother at all, more concerned about his next meal or drink after sitting through church all that time. 

One rainy day in late summer as I sat at the window seat in the parlor. It was only just about noon and I was re-reading one of the many forbidden medical journals peacefully. Thoughts of lunch began coming to mind as my stomach rumbled, unsatisfied with the bread I had gotten myself for breakfast. Just then a sudden noise pulled me from my book and shook me to jump in terror. 

A loud crash of glass and a blood curdling scream cut through the calm house hold like a knife. My heart pounded in my chest as I dashed from the window seat and followed the echoes of the deafening sound. It was coming from up the stairs. 

Our home was a nicely decorated yet small town home so I needn't run far as my small feet took me up to the second floor to find a shattered flower vase in the hallway. 

Suddenly another shattering sound broke out as more screeching followed it. I ran to where the sounds were coming from, my parents' room. As I lingered in the doorway I found my mother in the master bedroom alone flinging objects around and

breaking mirrors, sobbing in horror of something unseen. 

"Oh no....no, please not again..." I whispered to myself as my steel blue eyes took in the nightmarish sight of my mother's fit. 

She dashed around the room for a moment before even noticing my presence when she stopped herself short, looking at me in shock. I stood unmoving in silence, unsure of what to do as moments passed of her simply staring into my eyes. 

"You!" She suddenly barked with a growl to her normally feminine voice, making me jolt in surprise. Pointing her pale outstretched finger at me with ferocity my mother's face twisted in a bitter expression. "You devil child! Satan's bastard!" She screamed before beginning to bolt towards me. 

With wide fearful eyes I leaped back and closed the door, blocking her path to me. I pressed myself up against the door to keep it shut as she violently attacked the door handle to get to me. As I stood there in the upstairs hallway, pressing with all my might against the door, tears began obstructing my sight as my mother whaled from behind the door like a banshee. 

"Mother, stop! Please, Mother! Stop it!" I cried behind the door, utterly bewildered at what had caused this outbreak. 

My Mother had fits from time to time, usually they ended quickly but anymore they were growing more and more dangerous - this time especially. It was like a whole different woman who masqueraded as my Mother. I couldn't even discern what her words meant; devil child, satan's bastard. What was she talking about? What had I done? Why was I to be punished like this?

Suddenly it stopped.

My red tear stained face dropped at the realization. She wasn't at the door anymore and it was deathly silent. It was almost as if right after a horrible storm hits and the earth is quiet, that is what it felt like as my small chest pounded with deep breathes. 

Licking my lips, eyes still wide in fear, I gathered my courage and turned around facing the door. Reaching my hand to the doorknob-

CRASH!

I leaped back again. The door jiggled like a bear had clawed at it. Having had enough and something inside me snapping I stood tall with fury in my eyes.

"Mother, stop it this instant! Stop it!" I ordered in a loud voice.

My eyes flickered about the door for a moment as I stood in the hall, my commands hanging in the thick air.

Silence.

Then I heard something. Something quiet. Stepping closer, I slowly pressed an ear against the wooden door and listened intently. My features softened from my fury to an expression of sober concern. 

She was crying.

This fit was over.

Twisting the doorknob I opened the door to find her curled up in a ball at the foot of my parents' bed. Still in her white nightgown and not even dressed for the day yet. Her long hair was down and in a tangled mess, she looked like a proper basket case in that moment, my dear Mother. She simply sat there on the floor burying her face into the foot board of the bed, sobbing as quietly as she could. 

Trying not to show how much I trembled I stepped closer to her, sadness in my eyes. With a loud hiss of an inhale she darted her eyes to me like a snake about to attack, I almost yelped but she stopped herself short. Her eyes meeting mine again and this time I could see my Mother in her eyes. 

"Oh...." she whimpered out in sorrow, her lip quivering. 

"Mother?" I asked to be sure, looking back at her with my tear stained face.

She reached her arms out to me, crying pitifully and I embraced her for comfort from the horrible experience that had just happened. She held me close to her and tucked my head in her neck, crying out louder now.

"Oh God! Lord, help me! I'm so sorry, my baby. Albert, oh I'm so sorry." She sobbed to me, rocking me in her embrace. I cried too.

"My baby, my little Albert. I am so sorry." She spoke through tears while she held me tight and kissed my head.

We both sat there in that silent room, sobbing into one another.

After a few moments she loosened her grip on me and I gently sat up from her neck. I couldn't find words to say, I just looked to her eyes for a long moment as if to check if it was still really her again.

Finally I found words to speak again, "Mother...what happened? Why did you say those things? Why are you upset?" I asked.

She tried holding back more tears and gave a small fleeting smile, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." she whimpered some more.

" I - I just got upset. I didn't know what I was doing. It just hurt, and it makes me so angry. I'm filthy Albert, you should go downstairs. I need to wash up. After what he did- and it still smells in here and-" she looked to me, my utter confusment showing on my face no doubt.

"Mother, what are you talking about?" I asked again, unable to get a clear answer.

"Oh Lord, help me. Help me, Lord, help me. This isn't how it was supposed to be. Why, Lord, why? God, give me salvation!" She shouted to the ceiling.

Grabbing my Mother by the shoulders I shook her to look at me, "Mother!" I shouted over her.

She lowered her gaze back to me.

"Mother, what is so wrong?" I asked once more.

Suddenly her face changed, her eyes widened and she looked at me in shock. My eyes widened back in confusion and fear of what would make her react like this.

"Alb-" She interrupted herself swallowing hard as her eyes zoned out into the emptiness of the room. 

"Mother?"

"It hurts, baby.... it hurts." She spoke as she began collapsing like a marionette against the foot board of the bed. 

In bewilderment my eyes flashed over her, examining her when my eyes caught that sight.

That horrible, nauseating sight of her nightgown stained red.

She was bleeding out. It was all over the bottom of her nightgown.

"Mother, you're bleeding!" I exclaimed in horror.

This shocked her awake again and she looked at herself, touching the red soaked skirt of her nightgown. Her eyes locked on her skirt through her pain.

"Albert you need to get out. I need to go to the bathroom." She spoke directly.

"Why? Mother, what's going on? We need a doctor!" My little voice spoke as I tried to make sense of it all.

She turned to me with an intense look, "This isn't something you need to see- oh!" Her words were cut off with another wave of pain coming over her. 

"Please Mother, let me help you. I'll send for the doctor." I pleaded.

She grabbed my arm suddenly, "Albert listen to me..."she spoke trying to catch her breath.

I looked to her acutely, awaiting her prompt to get the doctor.

"You can help me, alright son? You can help....but no doctors. No doctors...." She explained.

"Mother, you need a doctor-"

"You'll be my doctor then! How about that, Albert? You be my doctor." She insisted.

"Mother? I don't think-"

"Help me, get me up!" She insisted as she scurried to get to her feet. 

She was clearly very dizzy. I did as she asked and helped her to her feet.

"I just...I need to get to the chamber pot." She explained trying to take a step.

I rushed to catch her and helped her walk her way over to the chamber pot in the corner. Once we were there before the chamber pot she had me turn away as she situated herself onto the seat. 

At her approval I turned back to look to her, "Mother?" I asked, unsure how to phrase my question.

"Yes, Albert darling?" She spoke fighting back pain.

"Well....Is this a menstruation cycle? I've read a small bit about them in the medical journals and-"

"Well you could say it's something like that, Albert." Mother smirked to me before grimacing at the pain again.

I frowned in perplexity, not a menstruation cycle? Then what in the world was happening to my Mother? It escaped me for a while, until hours later. 

The bleeding had stopped and she had cleaned herself and gotten dressed. She was back to herself, though something still seemed off. She was almost constantly lost in thought. We went downstairs and she had made herself and I some lunch, which my growling stomach certainly did appreciate. It wasn't until after we had eaten that I caught her gazing out the window to the back garden. It was small but she was proud of her little patch of herbs and vegetables. 

"Mother?" I asked, breaking her thoughts out the window back to the here and now.

"Albert, darling would you be a dear and fetch the chamber pot? I should like to clean it before your Father comes home." She spoke, as if trying not to cry again.

I nodded and got up from my seat at the table, wanting to do anything to keep her from crying again or having another episode. I went upstairs, back down the hall, back into my parents' room, back to that chamber pot. I carefully opened the compartment and slid out the bloody metal pot and...

God help me, I looked in it. I did. I looked in that damned bloody pot. I instantly recognized what was in there from the medical journals, there was even a picture diagram of what they looked like at all the different stages. In that pot, covered in thick blood and clots was a frail little fetus. My Mother had been with child, and she hadn't even told me. My own brother or sister lay dead in that pool of blood in that pot and I hadn't even known until that moment.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen holding the bloodied pot - my sibling's coffin.

Mother stood at the sink and turned to me, unable to look me in the eye. 

"I didn't even know until the other night." She answered.

I nodded solemnly before moving over to her and handing her the pot. She poured the remains in the pot into an empty old tin canister and sealed it with it's lid when she was done. The blooded bowl she left in the sink for now.

"She shall get a proper burial, Albert. I'm sorry you had to know about this." She tried not to cry as she held her gardening trowel in one hand and the canister in her other.

I looked down in mourning for my lost sibling before my Mother's words caught me. She?

"She?" I asked puzzled.

My Mother looked to me out of the corner of her eye and gave a sad smile.

"Mother's intuition." She explained.

My Mother made her way out to the back garden and found a patch of dirt right beside the back steps. I followed her outside out of curiosity and she had caught notice.

"Albert, come help me." She smiled another sad smile to me and handed me the trowel and pointed to the dirt patch.

I knelt down and began digging. Digging my sister's grave. When I had made the hole deep enough Mother placed the canister in the hole and picked a single flower from her Chamomile plant to place on top of the canister. She silently cried softly as I simply looked to the canister unsure of my own emotions. Part of me was sad, mourning the sibling I might have had. Part of me was numb, nothing had actually happened and miscarriages happen often according to the medical journals. I was more upset for my Mother, I couldn't stand seeing her this heartbroken.

"You know...I had a name picked for her." Mother sniffled. 

My ears perked a bit at her voice, "Oh? What was it?" I asked.

"Cynthia." She smiled for a second before frowning sorrowfully again. 

"Her name was going to be Cynthia." She said.


	4. The Schoolhouse

When Father finally came home late that night, smelling of tobacco and alcohol from the local tavern and inn, Mother said nothing of what happened that day. Father knew nothing about my mother being pregnant or having her miscarriage, but I did. As a matter of fact, I had spent the evening reading up on exactly that topic within my medical journals. I wanted to understand how it had happened; what had happened. 

It was strangely fascinating to me, how a life developing could die. How a living body could hold a dead one inside of it. That topic was of growing interest to my young mind; life and death. I mean we are all going to die someday, right? Yes, some could argue that a topic like that has no place within a young boy's skull, and yet I couldn't help it. My intrigue grew and these books - these medical journals....they explained it all to me detail by intricate detail.

  
Well months passed and Mother never spoke of what happened again. Whenever I would bring up something along the lines of that topic her responses prompted me to never speak of it again, and so I didn't. I simply kept it to myself whenever my thoughts would stray to that mental picture in my mind of that clump of flesh in that bloody bowl.

  
Anyway, as I said months went by and summer's heat had passed bringing with it wisps of autumn's splendor. Father, I saw less and less of as he left earlier in the mornings and came home even later in the evenings anymore. Something with work, Mother explained but I cared little. One sunday Mother and I even attended church on our own, which I enjoyed greatly for there was no hushed arguments on the way to and from the chapel. Reverend Beck was a treat to learn from as always, the way he captivated the church goers never did seem to grow old on me. Lilybelle and I would still sit beneath the oak tree together but anymore she was beginning to take interest in playing hopscotch with the other children after so long of sitting with me. I didn't mind though, I would just read whatever book I had snuck with me and watch her and the other children play. They were dull but Lilybelle, she kept my attention enough.

  
Then one day it happened. I had asked about it and patiently anticipated it, the day when I would be sent to school. I had finally reached the age I could attend the town's school house. It was only just down the road from the chapel and it was such an interesting looking building, I had always wanted to go inside.

  
It was the first day of September that I awoke in the morning with a soft smile. I would be attending school today, and my young mind was eager to learn all I could from School Master Kessel. I climbed from my small bed and got myself dressed for the day before making my way downstairs. Father had already left for work, either that or he just simply hadn't come home at all last night, and Mother must have still been asleep up stairs. Sometimes it was better to leave Mother undisturbed in the mornings, she was prone to small fits of anger or crying for no apparent reason.

  
She had left for me though, on the kitchen table a lunch pail for me to take to school. My Mother, what a sweet angel of a woman. I swept the kitchen floor a bit, as I usually did to help my mother keep the house tidy, then I took the pail from the kitchen table and made my way to the front door of the house. I opened the door and stepped out into the early morning light, the scents of September filling me with optimism for the adventure I was to embark on. The adventure that was school.

I made my way along the dirt roads and to the schoolhouse, along the way finding more and more a fellow young traveler making the pilgrimage to the schoolhouse. Past the black berry bushes and beyond the elm trees I had finally spotted it, the schoolhouse there in a green pasture. And there, right there in it's doorway stood School Master Kessel ringing a silver bell, calling us all forth in a quest for knowledge. I walked as swiftly as my feet would allow me as I continued on towards the school, passing other children in my wake. 

Before I knew it I was there, at the footsteps of the schoolhouse being welcomed inside with the other children to take a seat within the one roomed building. There were several desks all in four lines, the younger children being asked to sit closer to the front of the class. All girls on one side of the room while all boys seated on the other. There were only 15 other children that day but I couldn't have cared less about my nimble minded fellow students whom I knew well from church. I was more interested in anything School Master Kessel had to say.

"Stand at attention." Kessel spoke strongly.

I along with the rest of his pupils rose from our seats and stood at attention as asked.

School Master Kessel stood beside his desk on the raised platform at the front of the class, and as he prompted, we sang God Save the King with our hand on our chests. After the song without missing a beat the older children and Kessel had moved right into reciting the lord's prayer, I along with the other new students scattered to catch up to the rest of the class in prayer. 

"Excellent. You all may sit now." Kessel explained. I took my seat along with everyone else. Then silence befell the school room as School Master Kessel began walking the rows of desks, eyeing each student as he passed. I sat a bit straighter and kept my eyes forward to the black board, thinking we were under inspection of some kind. 

"Lilybelle." Kessel declared.

My eyes widened, Lilybelle? She was here as well? My attention shot to the other side of the class and I saw that it was true. Lilybelle was sitting at the front of the class on the other side of the room, we were in the same grade level. 

"Yes, Mister Kessel?" She looked up to her teacher with a sliver of fear in her eyes.

"You shall read today's passage." He explained handing her an opened bible. "Jeremiah 29: 11, if you please."

Lilybelle stood from her desk and held the bible in her small hands as Kessel began pacing back to his desk.

" 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' " Lilybelle recited the passage, the whole time her eyes glued to the pages so as not to stutter or mess up. I was proud of my friend, she did well.

"Very good, Lilybelle. You may be seated." Kessel nodded and Lilybelle took her seat with a smile.

Kessel stood at the front of the class and studied each of us. I put my best foot forward by looking as presentable in my seat as I could.

"Good Morning, class." He greeted.

"Good Morning, Mister Kessel." We all replied, attempting harmony but failing miserably.

"And thus starts the school year. Summer has come to a close and September is upon us, autumn is drawing ever near. This year we shall be covering only the utmost essential lessons." Kessel elaborated.

Sitting in my seat I could barely keep from kicking my legs under the desk, I was so delighted to hear what lessons we would cover. I would finally be able to ask questions about the Cornea and Sclera of the eye and whether stomach acid could in fact eat through metal even though my Mother insists it cannot. Oh, the glorious world of my medical journals would now have a spokes person for them in School Master Kessel. I was so excited.

"We will be going over spelling, penmanship and arithmetic in the morning." Kessel explained. "Then we will take our meals for an hour at noon followed by story-time, science and then music."

My shoulders sloped some. Science wouldn't be until after lunch? After story-time? I tried not to let my slight disappointment show on my face as I resigned myself to the fact that I would just have to be patient.

After all, I had waited this long. What's a few hours more?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment below and let me know how I'm doing guys, please? <3


	5. The Walk Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS GRUESOME
> 
> Seriously, please don't read if gore upsets you.

Well the day went by slow to be honest. Spelling was easy, I got the hang of that quickly due to recognizing most of the words from reading them time after time before. Penmanship, now that was a tad trickier but still not by much, I wasn't happy with mine but lord knows the rest of the boys were much worse than mine. Arithmetic, that wasn't very enthralling to say the least. Rather boring and repetitive, I had no interest in this topic because of how tediously easy the questions were. By that time in the day I had lost all pride and joy in being able to answer questions so effortlessly that I became sullen and more quiet than usual.

We ate at noon, as promised. My stomach was thankful for the pick me up. My mother's pail she had made me was delicious, she had even treated me with a small piece of pound cake she had made a day prior.

We took our meals outside, the other children seized the opportunity to run and play in the sun with the extra time we had. I however once again found myself away from the others. Even Lilybelle was off playing. I sat beside a wilting bush at the corner of the schoolhouse, eating from my pail and eagerly awaiting when we would finally reach the only subject matter I cared about - science, and hopefully biology.

After a while we were summoned back inside by that same silver bell. I rushed in, the first in the one roomed school. I took my seat and tucked my pail under my desk. Sitting tall I awaited class to start.

Class started and it was now story time. At least this was a subject that would be entertaining. Mister Kessel had everyone take turns passing the book around to read segments aloud from it, the book being a collection of stories but today we only read The Crooked Toad.

Finally, after many an hour of waiting and waiting and waiting, it was finally time.

"And now class, Science." Kessel smiled to the class, now less stern with his well behaved pupils.

I couldn't help but to pull my lips in a smile. I could have tried harder to hide it but my mind wasn't on my face, but on much more intriguing matters of the human skeletal system.

"Why Albert, I haven't seen that reaction from you before. Tell me, son; are you keen on science?" Kessler asked, his full attention on me.

"Oh yes, sir. Science is my favorite subject." I proudly replied.

"Let me guess, you're an astronomy lad?"

"Astronomy?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.

"Astronomy, the study of the moon and stars." He answered, thinking he had pegged me.

"Um. No, not really, sir. I'm more interested in biology." I explained.

The expression on the man's face was pure shock, I think he didn't even know I could say the word biology, let alone understand it. Then it changed, his features turned into a prideful sneer.

"Biology, hm? Albert Caine, please stand and tell the classroom what precisely biology is." He smirked.

Unaffected and not realizing the man's sarcastic mood I stood to my feet and faced the class. All the other children below me, seated in their chairs at their desks, looking to me - it made me almost feel like Reverend Beck for a moment there.

"Biology: the study of living organisms, divided into specialized fields that cover their morphology, physiology, anatomy, behavior, origin, and distribution. My personal favorite is human biology and the subject I would like very much to discuss is the human organ system, in particular the heart cavity and lungs."

The other children were in awe, though I wasn't so sure if they were in a good way. Some looked grossed out, other's somewhat intrigued, but for the most part they looked dumb founded. Lilybelle though, I caught her sight as she smiled and snuck a little wave to me, I nodded in return before being interrupted by -

"Albert Caine." Sneared Mister Kessel.

I turned to him to find him irritated by something which escaped me.

"Mister Kessel?" I replied.

"Sit down. Now." He commanded. I did as he asked.

"Albert, it may have escaped you, however this is a schoolhouse not a medical school. Here we cover a wide array of subjects, however we do not cover human anatomy or biology-"

"What? None at all?" I questioned back in shock. Now I was dumb founded, after all that excitement and build up - it wouldn't even be in the lessons.

Kessel's face began turning red in bitterness as he crossed his arms, the other children now gathering on his side of the argument and judging me with burning eyes.

"Albert, if you want to learn any of that may I suggest you attend a medical school?" Kessel chuckled to himself, now fully showing his dissatisfaction with me.

My eyes widened as my smile returned, "Medical school? Why yes, yes of course! Medical school! Where do I go? Will they let me enroll even though I've missed half the first day?" I asked honestly, determination for knowledge fueling me.

Kessel's eyes scowled at me, thinking I was mocking him further.

"You cannot go to medical school! You are too young and they wouldn't accept you anyway!" He shouted.

"But why?" I questioned, my plans shattering before my eyes.

"Because you have proven yourself disobedient in a school setting! Albert, go! Go sit in the corner on the dunce stool! Go at once!" He demanded like thunder.

The other children snickered as I passed them to the back of the class to sit on a small beaten up stool in the corner of the classroom. I took my new seat, my soul crushed at the horrible news. No biology, no medical school, no real learning. This schoolhouse was a sham, at least that's how I viewed it.

"When and if you learn to behave, you can retake your seat at your desk. Until then Albert, you keep your mouth shut." Kessel explained for the whole classroom to hear, clearly proud of himself and the power he had over me.

After a bit of him continuing on with their lessons on gravity and apples, when Kessel was well invested in his teaching and not paying much attention; Lilybelle looked back to me with a sad look.

She mouthed the words "I'm sorry" before having to turn back around so as not to get caught. It wasn't much but it meant a lot, my only friend sympathizing with me.

I sat on the stool and gazed out the window, no longer paying any mind to Mister Kessel and his dull lessons. Instead I lamented to myself how I had wasted my time getting my hopes up for this school, how I wanted to go to this wondrous new medical school I had come to learn about, and how I might be able to get there.

The rest of the day was uneventful for me and after classes ended Mister Kessel kept me behind from leaving with the other children to clean his blackboard erasers. I think he took too much amusement from watching me beat those erasers together and get chalk dust all over myself as I watched the other children leave without me. The joke was on him though, as I didn't much care for the other children at all.

Only Lilybelle I regretted not being able to talk to today, but it was just as well because she lived the other direction from where I would be headed anyway.

The sky was beginning to tint yellow, threatening sunset soon when Kessel finally allowed me to make my way home. It was funny, how one could go in with such high hopes and potential and walk away with nothing but broken dreams and irritation. 

Pail in hand I began my long walk home, now not as eager to get to and from school as before.

I went along the paths for a long while, kicking small rocks when I found them in my way. September's winds brushed through my hair with a slight chill as I passed the elm trees and the black berry bushes. I could no longer see the schoolhouse but I sure couldn't see anything up ahead either, there wasn't a single soul around at all. I kept on my path, my mind still reeling with how I would manage being stuck in such a dull place as that school house every day.

Snap!

I jumped back as the sound surprised me.

"What in the world?" I looked down to where the sound had come to find I hadn't noticed a cat in my path. Not only just a cat but a freshly dead one. Not only a freshly dead cat but one I had just accidentally stepped on, breaking it's ribcage.

"Oh dear." I muttered to myself as I looked down at the pitiful sight. I studied it for a moment and shuffled it with the toe of my shoe to ensure it really was dead, which of course it was.

It sure was a ghastly sight though, it's rib bones now protruding from it's skin as blood stained it's fur. Red crimson blood, not unsimilar to the blood in that bowl. I found myself staring at it, the dead thing, it was interesting the way it lay dead. I found that I...I wanted to touch it. I wanted to feel death on the thing. Had rigamortis set in yet?

I looked up and around to ensure no one was near and would think me odd, and no one was. I looked to the side of the dirt road and found a stick, a perfect instrument for the purposes I needed. I bent down to the dead thing and poked it with the stick. Fiddling with it I managed to flip some of it's flesh back to reveal the wound to it's ribs. I couldn't have done all that to it, no it looked as if it had been bitten or rather attacked by something - another animal perhaps. Not something that big though, only a bit bigger than it was.

Bringing the stick up from the dead thing I examined the sharp stick, the tip of which was soaked in a good amount of fresh blood. It was bright red but now it began looking more dark red and glossy in the fleeting amount of light there was as sunset took full effect.

Setting the stick down I then knelt onto the dirt path, resting on my knees to get a closer look. The thing had organs, organs I could identify. They were almost like that of a humans, but different. My small hand reached toward the thing, as I began touching inside of it. It was as if I was a real doctor, treating a patient. This was a fun new game.

My eyes tinked as I reached between the bones and wrapped my fingers around the small heart of the animal. My own living heart pumped in excitement, what a thrilling experience. The only way I could fathom of making this moment better would be if the heart had still been beating. Finding no harm in it, I attempted to pull it out but it seemed stuck. Giving another tug it proved very secure in it's place indeed.

"Come on then!" I murmured aloud as I gave it a final tug, this time using all my strength and it ripped at it's cords. A bit of blood splashed out from the body as it's organ was now removed.

I had read about procedures like this in the medical journals, I recalled the medical field referred to it with a certain name.

"My first autopsy..."

My eyes grew in enchantment as I held the small bloody ball of a heart in my hand. I felt invigorated like never before. Bringing it closer I inspected it with a smile.

"How extraordinary." I gleamed.


	6. Reading the Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again graphic violence, trigger warnings, and dirty language. You have been warned ~

That night before I had gotten home I had washed the blood from my hands in a nearby creek. I only panicked having to explain what had happened when I noticed some blood on my white cotton shirt. Just a bit on sleeve's cuff but enough to truly show it's marvelous ruby red color. I thought on my feet quickly though, as I found a thorny bush to cut hand a bit on - just enough to draw enough blood to explain the spot on my shirt.

When I had finally walked through the front door it was well past dark and my mother had already eaten dinner, saving me a plate. She was up and dressed now, she looked herself aside from a hideous purple bruise on her neck. I asked her about it but she was more interested in the blood on my shirt. I lied. I had no alternative, really. My mother might not allow me to read any more of the medical journals if she knew of the autopsy I had preformed. I felt vaguely guilty for lying to her, however it was for the best and quickly forgotten about once I explained I had tripped and caught myself on a thorn bush.

Mother had me sit at the kitchen table and eat my now cold dinner, but it was still delicious. Father hadn't come home yet, which was normal. I never expected to see him much anymore, what with coming home so late and leaving so early.

Mother asked about my day at school, and I would have rather talked about anything other than that mess.

"It wasn't as interesting as I had hoped." I spoke, putting it bluntly.

She nodded, "Well it was only the first day. Maybe it'll get more interesting the more you go."

I looked to my food and raised my brows a bit, I had nothing more to say on the topic.

She changed the topic for me, thankfully. I had felt that she was thinking hard about something and holding it back from me, I learned never to ask when she acted that way though because she would never answer if directly asked.

"Albert, dear? Have any of the children at church or school mentioned anything about heathens?" She asked looking into my eyes, a faint sadness reflecting in her own.

My brows scrunched in confusion, "Heathens?" I asked taken back by the topic. "No, no one's mentioned anything of the sort to me."

Pursing her lips slightly she nodded again as she turned to look off away from me.

"Why?" I questioned.

Looking to me out of the corner of her eye I could tell there was something she wanted to say but clearly was having trouble doing so. She turned her face to me again, looking to me over the table intensly.

"Albert, can you keep a secret? Something just between you and I?" She asked of me.

"Yes, of course, Mother. Anything."

"Very well then." She took a breath and leaned in a bit. "They are not Heathens!" She shouted in a whisper with wide eyes.

"Who aren't heathens, Mother?" I asked, utterly lost as to what she was talking about.

Mother's eyes shifted about, no one was home but us, but it was as if she had to be sure.

"Albert, it's nearly autumn. Whenever the leaves turn red they come to town, the travelers. They come in caravans and tents, bringing with them their wares and customs. People around here...they don't like them, Albert. They don't like them at all. In fact if the town had it their way... well, lets just say they wouldn't come here anymore." She explained to me in hushed tones.

"Why not?" I asked, many more questions beginning to rise within my skull.

"Because Albert, they're gypsies. This town, it was built upon religion. Everyone here goes to church, you know that. Well gypsies, they don't." She tried explaining, struggling still to make her point.

"So they're sinners?" I deduced, based on what Reverend Beck had taught me every sunday.

"No, Albert! They are not sinners! No." She answered quickly, as if insulted.

"Then what are they?" I questioned more.

"They're just...different, darling. They're different. They have their own ways, different from how we do things here." She replied more warmly to me now, beginning to calm a bit.

"Why are you telling me about this?" I finally asked her, now fully confused with where this conversation was going.

"Because Albert, I don't want you to be afraid of them. Different doesn't always mean bad, even though others might tell you so."

"Why do you care about them?" I questioned, perhaps a bit more coldly than I had intended.

"Because they're good people. They aren't what people say they are." She answered.

Suddenly she stood up and left the room before I could even ask her why. I took another bite of my dinner and as I chewed I moved to get up from my seat to follow her, but as quickly as she had left she was back. She took her seat again so I did the same.

Swallowing my food I could finally ask her, "What are you doing, Mother?"

"Albert, I need you to keep this a secret. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" She looked into my eyes strongly.

I nodded, still confused but honestly intending to keep all she had and would tell me to myself.

Then I had noticed she held a deck of cards in her hand, that's what she had gone to retrieve.

"Albert, I'm going to show you this secret. I'm going to show you how to read the cards." She explained beginning to shuffle the deck.

It seamed a simple deck of playing cards, however I caught sights of colored pictures on them as Mother shuffled. I was enchanted with this odd deck, it seemed well worn and aged from time. I watched as my mother shuffled them, she clearly had some practice at it.

"Read cards?" I raised a brow, beginning to wonder if my mother feeling well or if this was a new kind of very calm fit of her's.

"Yes Albert, they can tell you things; if you know how to understand them." She smiled calmly.

"Cards don't speak." I reasoned.

"Not to your ears, but you can read them. They can tell you your fortune, Albert."

"You mean magic?" I asked with a new realization.

"Yes Albert, something like that." She smiled a bit more.

I got up from my chair, pushing it back as fear overwhelmed me.

"No, Mother stop! That's witchcraft. It's a sin! We'll be damned!" I argued in terror of these playing cards.

"Albert, hush!" She raised her voice over mine.

"But Reverend Beck-!"

"Albert, stop. Calm down. This isn't a sin. We won't be damned. Sit down, Albert." She insisted.

I obeyed my Mother, trying to calm myself but still utterly confused.

"Don't be afraid, Albert. I told you, don't be afraid. Different isn't always bad." She explained.

She began dealing three cards before me, I watched in silence as she did so.

"These are for you. These cards will tell you about your future, my darling son. They won't hurt you, they are not evil. They're just to show up a glimpse into the future." She explained in a soothing voice I knew I could trust.

Almost hesitating I instead reached out and turned over the first card.

The Page of Coins.

The card had an illustration of a boy in a red tunic holding a golden coin in both hands. I glanced to my mother and then studied the card some more.

"The Page of Coins means that you have deep concentration and application. You have great respect for knowledge, and a desire for learning and new ideas." She explained to me.

That wasn't bad. That was actually pretty nice to hear, the cards were supporting me and my thirst for knowledge on medical and biological topics? That was unexpected to say the least. No one seemed to condone it, Mother just merely allowed it hoping it might pay off one day in the form of me becoming a doctor. I was over come with the need to flip the next card.

The Seven of Coins.

This card had a picture of a blonde man holding a coin with a pile of coins before him, it looked as if he were collecting the coins.

"The Seven of Coins means hard work and ingenuity. This means when you're older you will work hard to see the results of your efforts - which will come. You'll do a lot of growing as a person too, which is to be expected as you age." She smiled softly.

Looking up to my mother I came to realize she was very comfortable and proficient and reading these cards.

"Is the next one...?" My words trailed off.

"Yes, that's the outcome of your life, Albert." She nodded gracefully.

I reached for the card, feeling it in my hand as I flipped it over with a craving knowledge to know what it would say. What would I become? What kind of man would I be?

The Emperor.

My eyes grew at the stunning sight of the card's drawing of a king, complete with crown and staff.

"What does it mean, Mother?" I looked up at her, eager for her to translate it's meaning to me.

"Oh darling, what a grand card to get! It means you will grow up to become a wise and powerful man. You will be a confident leader and accomplish much in your life. You will have wealth and authority with matched conviction and influence. You will be a great success." She gleamed.

I was in awe of this information. If it were true, it was amazing to learn my future would be so bright. Part of me worried if I could live up to this image of my future self, part of me grinned wide at the opportunity to try.

Then Mother swiped up the cards and shuffled them into the deck again.

"Now Albert, I want you to shuffle them for me. Lay down three for my future, darling." She smiled proudly as she handed the deck off to me.

I took it, unsure at first how to shuffle but it began coming naturally to me.

"How do I do it?" I asked.

"Just clear your mind of all thoughts and focus on me and what energies my future holds." She explained, clearly eager to see what I would be able to read of her fate.

I shuffled and shuffled, clearing my mind and focusing solely on my mother and what life had in store for her from here out. After a bit more shuffling I pulled three cards and laid them before her.

"Good job, Albert. Well done." She smiled as she reached for the first card, flipping it over.

She looked over it, The Eight of Swords.

Her smile faded slightly as she tilted her head, "Yes well, I expected as much for that one." was all she said.

"What does it mean, Mother?" I asked, hoping I had done it right.

"I'll tell you in a moment, darling." She answered flipping the next card.

The Ten of Swords.

"Well, that's to be expected too I suppose. I had hoped it might be different." She whispered to herself.

"What, Mother? What is it?" I pressed, she ignored as she flipped the final card with a gasp.

Death.

My eyes widened at the dark card, as a picture of a skeleton smiled back at us.

"Mother?" I insisted now in fear.

"Albert, it's alright." She got up and moved over to me, hugging me tightly.

"Did I do wrong, Mother? Why does it say that?" I questioned overwhelmed with what had happened.

She kissed my head as she held me close, "No no, darling. You did it perfectly fine. I'm sorry I shouldn't have pressed you to do that reading for me. Don't be afraid." She comforted me.

"Why does it say Death, Mother? Are you going to die?" I looked up at her trying not to cry.

"I'm not going anywhere, Albert. Don't fret, please don't fret." She insisted as she comforted me.

After I had calmed down she explained how Death sometimes only meant change and that some change was for the best. She said how her other cards were talking about her sadness and pain and perhaps it meant a change for the better in her future. This explanation managed to allow my mind some solace.

She brought me up stairs then and drew me a hot bath. As I scrubbed myself she had gotten my clean pajamas ready for me to put on. As I climbed in bed she kissed my head again and wished me sweet dreams before dowsing my light and leaving me to sleep.

After the long and exhausting day I had at school, then my autopsy, then those cards with Mother my eyelids were very heavy. I welcomed the warmth of sleep as it swept over me with ease. I was comfortable and deep in sleep as my body relaxed and rain pitter pattered at my window, singing me further into my dreams.

ROAR!

A loud break of thunder shocked me from my sleep. I awoke, springing out of my slumber at the sudden frightening sound. Looking to my window I saw flashed of lightning that illuminated my whole room.

I sighed a breath of relief, it was only a thunder storm.

I soon noticed my mouth was dry and I needed a drink of water.

I had no idea nor care at what time it was as I made my way down the hallway to the stairs on my way to get a glass of water from the kitchen. I was still more or less only half away anyway, that is until I got closer to the stairs and my ears caught the voice of my father.

"You disgusting bitch!" His voice carried through the house in slur. It was followed by a loud crash and the cry of my Mother.

I dashed to the top of the stairs and watched in horror as the cards from earlier were scattered across the floor at the foot of the stairs, my mother on the floor limp with them in a puddle of blood.

She fought to stand as neither noticed my presence and fear had frozen me in silence.

"He needs to know the truth, Henry!" She yelled, before he kicked her.

"Why on this damned earth? Why!?" He screamed back, kicking her harder.

She struggled for breath, as blood leaked from her mouth.

"Because....because Henry. I'm leaving you, and I'm taking him with me. You bastard!" And with that she spit at him.

He immediately slapped her across the face then grabbed her by the shoulders of her dress up to her feet.

"My son, off with you're those people and not me?!" He yelled turning red as he punched her across the face and shoved her against the wall.

"You're not going anywhere! Not you, and not my son! You're staying here and doing all what a good gypsy whore is good for!" He pinned her against the wall as he hissed, beginning to unbuckle his belt with his free hand.

Fear and rage began turning my mother's face into one of pure hatred, like I had never seen. Without speaking she kicked as hard as she could between my father's legs with a growl. He fell to his knees in shock.

"We're leaving, Henry! We're leaving and we're not ever coming back, you pig!" She hissed back at him, her voice dangerous. With that she curled her hand into a fist and rammed it into his skull as hard as she could, knocking him out. He collapsed to the floor with a thud as she began walking up the stairs.

Our eyes met. She looked shocked and worried as I stared back to her in fear.

Her eyes softened as she began approaching me, her arms reaching to me.

"Oh, my baby boy. It's alright now, Mother will fix this. We have to go-" She was interrupted by a pair of big hands wrapping around her throat, suffocating her.

"No!" I finally let out, the first time I had spoken at all.

It was my father behind her, now awake again and strangling her. She looked to me in pain, our eyes locked as I found myself unable to do anything. I could only watch as her life slowly wilted away from her eyes. Her expression turned from pain to one of determination as she fought to scratch at his grasp. She ripped at his hands but it did no use, so she reached behind her to scratch at his eyes. In anger he held tighter to her neck as he rammed her skull into the wall. Again. And again. And again. Until she stopped fighting back.

I stood there, still frozen in place by fear and shock as my father didn't even hear my cries.

He finally let go of her as her body hit the stairs. She slipped down the stair case, rolling down and hitting her head on more hard wooden steps until she reached the bottom.

Blood began pooling from her hair as she no longer showed signs of breathing.

I could feel it, the air shifted. The feeling of the room changed. I knew she was dead.

My father stood up a bit straighter, now proud of himself having won the fight. He slowly made his way down the stair case and over to her.

Tapping her with his foot he glared down at her, "Get up." he commanded.

Nothing.

"Nora, get the hell up, you whore!" He commanded louder.

Still nothing.

He knelt down and held his hand in front of her face for a moment, checking for her breath.

Again, nothing.

My lip quivered as tears filled my eyes, racing down my cheeks.

"M-Mother?" I called out, sniffling.

Finally my father turned to look to me, in shock that I was there. He hadn't even noticed me until now.

"Mother!?" I screamed through my tears.

Father was speechless at me for a moment as he stood and looked to me through his bloodshot eyes, brought on from drinking too much.

Lighting flashed again as I closed my eyes tight now unable to lie to myself about any possibility she was still alive.

I fell to my knees at the top of the stairs and buried my face in my hands as I sobbed. My sweet Mother was dead. I felt utterly alone. My world devastated, and my heart shattered.

Suddenly I felt a weight on my shoulder, causing me to jump in fear and pull my hands from my face to see what was touching me. It was my father's hand, he was standing on the stairs leaning over them to be about eye level with me.

"Albert, no one can know. Do you hear me?!" He shook me hard. "No one can ever know what happened tonight!" He spoke loudly.

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Yes, Father!" I replied in fear of him.

"No one! You must swear to keep this secret from everyone. Understood?" He insisted.

I nodded, "I promise, Father." I spoke through my cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you wanted to know Nora's Tarot Lay ~
> 
> (Where she is now) Eight of Swords - Crisis, Imprisonment, Turmoil, Sickness, Misfortune, Conflict.  
> (Where she's going) Ten of Swords - Ruin, Pain, Sadness, Tears, Desolation.  
> (Where she'll end up) The Death Card - Representing her own death.
> 
> FUN FACT: In Tarot the card Death doesn't symbolize actual death at all, it actually represents change. I used it in this horror piece as a creative interpretation, just so you all know!


	7. Pool of Blood

"Good." Father spoke, holding my shoulder still but now his grip softened. Relief began to soften his gaze at me as another clasp of thunder rumbled from the heavens. 

He released my shoulder from his claw and turned to look down the stairs at my mother as she lay in a pool of thick blood, dead like an animal. 

Tears kept escaping my eyes but I had managed to hush my cries of heart break. I now only began to catch my breath in the death polluted air. 

It felt like long moments of silence as the two of us, Father and I, simply looked to Mother's corpse. Almost as if that if we willed her to come back she would. 

Nothing.

Nothing but the sounds of rain and flashes of lighting, and the cries of mourning from thunder.

After what felt like minutes but the clock testified was an hour Father finally spoke.

"You need to get to bed." He said quietly though gruff.

I merely blinked, unable to look away from my mother.

"Albert, did you hear me? It's late. Go to your room and go to sleep." He commanded calmly.

I slowly turned my tear stained face to him, my eyes full of sadness and devastation.

"Now, Albert!" He barked, unable to look at me.

I jumped a bit the sudden volume of his voice. I quickly scrambled to my feet and took off down the hall and to my room, tears pulling from my eyes to my ears from the wind hitting my face at the speed. 

Once in my room I closed and locked my door, backing away from it slowly as my heart pounded in my chest.

"...Mother." I whimpered to myself in the cold dark lonely room.

I let myself fall as I silently sobbed into the wooden planks of my floor. 

She was dead.

She was gone.

And I....

I was alone.

Eventually dawn broke as sunlight teased my eyes awake. I had fallen asleep in a puddle of my own tears it seemed, on the floor no less.

Then it became clear to me.

I had dreamt it all.

Yes! That was it! It was all just a dream, and nothing more!

I grinned to myself as I looked up at the promising rays of sunlight pouring down on me.

I would open this door and go downstairs to find Mother alive and well, preparing a warm breakfast for her and I. 

It was just some strange dream. That was all.

I pulled myself up off the floor and reached for the doorknob.

Locked.

Oh, silly me! I must have slept walked and locked it somehow, yes I remember I did that in my dream!

I chuckled aloud as I unlocked my door and flung it open. Moving down the hallway I noticed how bright and cheery it looked now in the day time. I looked down the staircase and nothing! Oh god in heaven, there was nothing there! Thank god!

Thank god!

There were no cards, no blood, and most importantly no dead Mother! Bless the heavens!

I dashed down those stairs like I never had before and turned the corner into the kitchen to find-

My father?

My expression dropped from excitement to one of confusion. He normally was at work by now, why was he here?

More importantly I looked around the room. Father was the only one in the kitchen.

"Where's Mother?" I squeaked.

Father had been sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a file of his for work. Again he hadn't noticed me until my voice pulled his attention. He turned to look to me, putting down his coffee.

"Oh Albert, you're awake. Come here, I need to talk to you." He spoke, uncharacteristically warm to me.

I made my way to the table and took a seat.

"Where's Mother though?" I pressed, my eyes darting about waiting for her to walk into the room with a smile on her face.

"Albert, do you remember anything about last night?" Father asked.

I turned to look to him, a hard lump gathering in my chest. I denied the horrible thought that wanted so desperately for me to give into, to fear, to cry over. 

"It was a dream. Nothing more. Where's Mother?" I demanded.

"Albert-"

"Where is my Mother!?" I shouted, denying all the evidence against the fantasy I so desperately wanted to live in.

"She is dead, Albert!" Father shouted, standing abruptly with fury.

Silence fell upon us again.

Father's words had shocked me to accept what had happened.

It was true. It was all true. It hadn't been a dream. It really did happen.

My father had murdered my mother right before my very own eyes.

"...Where is she?" I asked, looking down at the table, unable to look that man in his eyes.

"I took care of that." He answered coldly.

"Where is she?!" I pressed, gritting through my teeth.

For the first time in my life I honestly hated my father. I hated him more than I ever knew a person could hate. This hatred filled me and I could no longer view him as a father, as if I ever really had in the first place. He was a monster.

"She's buried, Albert. Where all dead bodies end up! She's underground. Somewhere no one will ever find out what happened." Father answered, his voice uncaring about anything that he had done.

"Buried!? But where? Where, Father, where!?" I begged, suddenly over come with the need to find her and be with her. Even if dirt separated us I would still lay beside her, maybe plant pretty daisies there. She always loved daisies. She needed daisies to keep her happy and perhaps that would help wake her back up. Maybe if I went and held the earth as if it were her and cared for her daisies she would come back to me.

"Father, please!? Please tell me where she is! I must go to her!" I begged more, tears rolling down my cheeks once again.

"No!" He shouted, silencing me. "I will never tell you where she is! Do you hear me, Albert? Never!"

A stinging heat within my skull pulled my lip in a sneer as I looked to my father, the beast.

"You killed her! How could you?! She died because of you!" I shouted in retaliation, secretly hoping it would force him to show his humanity.

It did not.

He picked up the kitchen table, my mother's kitchen table, and flung it across the kitchen. It hit the wall with fury and then shattered all over the floor. It laid there in pieces, the same as my mother did the night before.

Before I could react my father dashed at me like a tiger hunting his prey and held my shoulders tight with his claws, his intense fiery gaze inches from my eyes as rage consumed him.

"Mark my words, boy. If you ever speak of any of this to anyone, you'll regret it like you have never regretted anything in your entire miserable life!" He spat in my face.

He slowly let go of me and backed away, as I sat there trembling in fear.

"I already told you, Father. I won't ever tell anybody." I assured.

"Good, lad. Good." He spoke, beginning to settle down again.

"I don't ever want to speak of this again. What happened was an accident and strictly family matters. It doesn't concern anyone and it will not ever concern anyone. You don't even know much about it and it should stay that way." He explained as he sat back down in his seat, coffee and papers littering the floor around him.

"So don't ever bring this up to me or anyone else ever again." He finished.

"I won't, but won't you please tell me where she is?" I asked again, half terrified half numbed.

"No. I don't want you going there, it would raise suspicions. No, boy. And never ask me that again. Understood?" His voice strong.

"Understood, Father...." I dishearteningly replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment and let me know what you think so far! <3


	8. We never did speak of it again.

We never did speak of it again. 

Life moved on and Father had convinced anyone who asked about her that she had been victim to a mental break and sent off to an asylum far away. I backed up this claim on the very rare occasion I was asked, my honest tears aiding in my lie.

School was wretched, and home life even worse now that I had more than twice the amount of chores as before. Father was around even less and when he was it was always with a bottle in hand. I still had my medical books, and even more time to read them as I was often alone. 

Sometimes when the mood struck me I would find myself wandering into my parents' room. 

Her things were still there, untouched. 

It was if she had never even left. As if she had never even...died.

It was a Thursday evening when I had gathered the curiosity to finally touch something in the room. I had usually just stood in the center of the room or sat on the floor looking at everything and remembering her. But this day my hand reached out to a drawer on her dresser.

I was utterly shocked when I looked inside.

The deck of cards!

How peculiar! He hadn't thrown them out. He had picked them all up and tossed them into this drawer. It was miraculous, how I had chosen this out of all of the drawers to open. Simply intriguing.

They were all there, scattered about in her stockings. I began picking them up, trying to sort them into a proper deck again. 

Some were crumpled a bit, but I flattened them. Some were torn on the edges, but I was delicate. Some were even blood stained a bit, those I cherished the most. I still had a piece of her, a piece of her blood. 

I held one of the blood stained cards, The Empress, to my heart. Her dried blood against my heart was enough to feel as though she were still in the room with me.  
These cards would have to take the place of her grave for me.

  
I brought them downstairs and took them out to the garden, out to my sister. I sat there in the dirt with daisies and lavender around me, with the deck on the ground before me and just past them the unmarked grave of my would be sibling.

I silently cried in the crisp autumn air. I was alone. I was truly and utterly alone now.

It wasn't fair.

Life....this sick lie of life we are given.

It isn't fair.

Life just is not fair.

Death....Death was the only truth in this entire cruel joke that was life.

Life could be taken. Life was taken.

Life would be taken again. Everyone is bound to die at some point.

After all my medical journals did nothing but prove this fact, that death was inevitable.

Oh, Mother....

It just wasn't fair.

If only there was a way to undo what had been done.

If only there was a way to keep you here and alive with me...even if only for merely a short while more.

This harsh truth, this brutal fact of death...it made me feel more mortal - more human than ever before.

I had no power over this. I had no way to undo what had been done to her. I had nothing.

Nothing but tears and memories that stabbed my heart like a knife.

Thoughts of the last evening I had with her seeped into my skull as my bloodshot tearing eyes landed upon the gaze of that deck of cards before me.

It was so strange, how I could only just begin to learn more about her right before she was ripped from me.

I hadn't even understood what she was trying to say. What she wanted me to know.

Why were these fortune cards of such importance?

Why had she spoken about those people, the gypsies?

Why was it all to remain a secret between us?

A secret I now would carry alone...

I looked down to the dirt below me, patches of the dark brown earth were soiled with my tears like raindrops. My heart weighed in my chest like a brick, crushing my spirit - crushing my own life force with sorrow and grief.

Wind blew as strands of my hair caught in the breeze, swatting them back from my eyes I nearly screamed. The cards! The cards blew in the wind!

Reaching out to grab them I quickly caught two before watching as the only other card that had been swept from it's deck landed on top of my sibling's grave. My sister's grave.

Eyeing it harshly the picture looking back to me filled me with awe. It was a woman. A Queen of Swords, however all around her adorning her throne were white lilies. Slowly I bent towards the card and picked it up, holding it in my hand with the other two. The Queen of Swords had raven black hair and wore a regal sapphire blue dress with a sword in one hand and white lilies surrounding her gracefully. 

It reminded me of my only friend. 

Lilybelle. 

Perhaps I wasn't utterly alone.

Perhaps.

Placing the cards back into a neat deck I held them tightly.

I couldn't risk them blowing away again.

I couldn't risk loosing them.

I couldn't risk loosing her...Mother.

I couldn't do it.

I could not bury these cards.

I wouldn't.

I would keep them with me.

I would keep her with me.

As long as these cards were near...

Mother was near.

And I wouldn't be alone.

Holding the deck of tarot cards to my chest it was almost like I could feel her. It was almost like Mother was hugging me again.

A tear rolled down my cheek and onto the deck of cards. 

I couldn't let them get dirty.

I placed them into my pants' pocket for safe keeping. 

This is where I would keep them for now.

This is where I would keep her.

I solemnly looked up from the dirt to the house that was now void of her.

It was then my eyes widened as large as they could, my skin turned shades of white as my mother looked back to me through the kitchen window with a soft smile.

My jaw hung in shock as I rose to my feet, an sea of emotion drowning me into one thought.

Go to her!

I dashed inside the house stumbling from my blasted feet that could only carry me so quickly. Reaching the kitchen I stopped short.

Nothing.

My face dropped from what was forming into a grin back into one of shock. 

Where was she?

No.

No. No!

"No!" I raged out loud. "You can not take her from me! Not again!" I screamed to the cruel lord above who toyed with my heartbroken mind.

I collapsed onto my knees, sobbing again.

"No...you can't..." I whimpered alone.

"Albert." A soft voice spoke.

I stopped, growing deathly quiet.

"Albert, darling." The same voice called.

I could hear her.

I could hear my Mother!

"Mother?!" I stood quickly, my steel blue eyes darting about insanely. "Mother, where are you!?"

"Albert..." She called again.

Upstairs. She had to be upstairs.

"I'm coming Mother! I'm coming! Albert's coming!" I shouted to her as I ran up the stairs, the stairs I had watched her die from. The memories flickering in my mind with each step I took, try as I might to force them away.

"Albert, love..." She called again.

"Mother!" I cried with an exhausted smile as I made it to the upstairs hallway.

"Albert..." She called, her voice coming from my room.

"I'm here! Mother, I'm here!" I joyfully reassured as tears fell from my eyes.

Turning the corner into my bedroom with a grin it felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart with a knife.

Nothing.

Nothing was there.

"Mother? Where'd you go?" I questioned stepping into the room.

There was no trace of her.

Then something caught my eye. 

Turning to look I found some of my old toy blocks scattered across the floor. Toys I had not played with in years. What were they doing out?

Then I realized. They spelled something out.

G-Y-P-S-I-E-Z

The blocks read 'gypsies'.

"What about the gypsies, Mother?" I questioned into the air.

"I don't know what you want!" I wept.

"Albert..." Her voice spoke.

I spun around towards the voice quicker than I could blink and there she was before me.

My Mother.

"I love you Albert. I will always love you, son." I smiled.

Then just like that she faded away into the air.

She was gone.

Had I imagined it? Or had my mother truly become a ghost, an angel? 

Had she truly visited me? Me! In my very bedroom?

It was entirely possible, when the mind is put under such stress and sadness to create ways to cope with it.

Looking back to the blocks I knew I couldn't be imagining them.

Gypsies. 

Perhaps it was time to go to the very place I had forever been warned not to go.

Perhaps it was time to pay these traveling vagabonds a visit from Albert Caine.


	9. The Gypsy Camp

That night father had been out like a light when he had finally come home from the tavern. It was simple to sneak out into the open night. It was late, well after midnight and the whole town had surely been to bed hours ago. There was no moon that night as I crept down the dirt roads and wooded paths to find the gypsy camp.

It had been a long walk, longer than it would have taken if I knew perfectly well the directions which I was going. It was so dark that in some shadowed areas I could barely see my own hand in front of my face. I could only be thankful of my youthful speed as the darkness played on my fears of large hungry beasts stalking about in the night.

I eventually caught the sight of flickering light through the trees and thickets. That must be it, the gypsy camp. I could make out faint sounds of music playing, violins or something similar. I followed it and soon found myself able to clearly see colorful wooden caravans and wagons along with a large bonfire and a group of people having a party or some such nonsense.

Creeping closer I began growing frightened.

What if this was a bad idea?

What if my mind was playing tricks on me and those blocks hadn't meant anything?

What if I was going into the dangerous territory I had been warned about at church?

What if this wasn't safe?

Suddenly a loud barking shook my to my core, forcing a yelp out of me as surely a beast was about to attack me.

"Django! Nu! Jos băiat!" A voice threatened in a language I couldn't understand.

Turning around I saw it was a dog, standing nearby but not approaching.

A woman came from behind a caravan over to the dog, petting it's neck not even noticing me.

"Django, nu-ți pierzi temperamentul. Is alright, calm now." she spoke.

Looking up our eyes finally met. She was an older woman, with sun tanned skin and thick wavy hair greyed with age. Crossing her arms she shifted her weight to her hip.

"Ah, so you are not yelling at phantoms this time Django. I see...." She eyed me up and down.

Shaking I tried to catch my breath. It was too late now, they had spotted me.

I couldn't turn back.

"Good evening, I didn't mean to upset your dog. I just-" I tried to explain but the woman cut me off.

"What are you doing here little unu? Isn't it past your bed time? Would your mother be happy you are here, ah?" She raised a brow, her voice testy.

"Well that's exactly the point. You see my mother is the one that sent me here."

"Oh is that so? You wouldn't mind I walk you home and hear her tell me herself, would you?" She spoke skeptically.

"You can't do that. You don't understand."

"Come on, little unu. Parents must me worried for you." She stepped towards me holding out her hand.

She was going to take me home. All of this for not!

I couldn't let that happen.

Mother wanted me here for some reason.

I had to do something.

"My mother is dead!" I blurted out. "She visited me. She told me to come here and I don't know why...but I must! I simply must come her for she told me to. Do you understand?" I pulled my arm away.

The woman stopped short.

Her intense gaze overlooking me completely.

"What is your name, little unu?" She questioned, folding her hands gently over her legs.

"Albert Jebediah Caine, ma'am."

Her face softened suddenly as she stood up straight, looking shocked at me.

"Your mother? Oh, child. Your mother?" Was all she could get out in whispers as she covered her mouth.

"Yes, she is dead...and her angel sent me here. Please help me. Oh won't you please, help me?"

"Come. Now." The woman whispered as she seemed to wipe a tear from her eye.

She walked briskly past me and deeper into the camp, I followed closely behind her. It was like a colorful festival as women danced and men laughed, music and food all around. Trying to get through it all was like being in another world from the one

I had always known.

Simple. Grey, white, and black. Quiet. Modest. That was my world.

But this, this was extravagant and colorful and loud and exciting. I took it in like a spice scented dream.

Then I found myself before a large caravan. The woman before me knocked at its door before turning to look back at me.

"Just another moment more, Albert." She reassured.

I nodded, then looked back towards the bonfire. Taking a step closer to her as the different world overwhelmed me slightly.

With a sudden creek the purple wooden door opened and in she went.

"Come in, child." Beckoned another voice.

Unsure I stepped up the stairs to the door and into the caravan.

Inside was filled with Persian rugs, intricate Asian looking lanterns, and commodities from around the globe it seemed. There were three other women in the caravan other than the one who had led me there, the clearly oldest of them seated at a small round table in the middle of the caravan. They each had a brightly colored and beautifully detailed china teacup in their hands, sipping tea.

  
"Close the door, young one. Then step inside." One of the younger women spoke, she had curly dark brown hair pulled to one side.

I did as I was told and closed the door then stepped further into the caravan.

"Go on, tell them what you told me." The woman nodded to me as she stood over the eldest's shoulder.

"What is it, tineri unu?" The oldest questioned with a gentle smile.

Licking my lips I looked about at the women then explained.

"My name is Albert Jebediah Caine. My mother Nora died and her angel told me to come here. I don't know why I am here, I don't know what she want's me to do but..."

I pulled out the deck of cards from my pocket.

"These are all that I have left of her and I...I just want her back. Please? I just want my mother back..." I cried quietly, embaressed of my tears before strangers.

Looking up from the red ornate rug under my feet I gazed up to the women.

They were all silently crying as well.

The oldest dropped her tea cup, shattering it on the floor as tea drops stained the floor.

"Your...mother? Dead?" She whimpered, she looked as if someone had just ripped out her soul. "Nora?" She cried.

"You know my mother?" I pushed tears back as more pushed forward. "How?"

The woman rose to her feet, her grey hair in a thick updo as some of it's length spilled out onto her shoulders. She stepped up to me and embraced me in a hug, pulling me to her heart.

"Child, she was my baby." She wept silently into me. "You are my own. My grandson. My Albert."


	10. Child, there is always a way.

I sat there on the ornate rugs within the warm caravan surrounded by letters. All hand written by my mother. My grandmother sat in a chair beside me, showing me her collection of my mother's letters to her.

They would write each other and leave the notes hidden in a tree on the way home from church. I had never even noticed.

"Can't I see the others?" I asked looking up to my grandmother.

"No, child. When you are older. Now is not the time for your young mind." She answered, holding a small pile of letters within her hands from me.

"Please? I can understand, I promise."

"Albert, there are things which women keep to themselves. Respect your grandmother's wishes now." The woman who led me before spoke. I had since learned she was one of my aunts. Aunt Aisha.

I had two aunts, Sera and Aisha. A grandmother, named Florica. And the other woman in the caravan was my grandmother's cousin Luminitsa.

My mother's name was Nora, I knew but my grandmother explained to me that it wasn't always my mother's name.

When my mother was young her name was Jaelle. She met my father and she fell madly in love with him, but he didn't know she was a gypsy. She changed her name to a normal english name and left her family and the life she always knew to marry him. After they were married did she finally tell him and he grew angry with her, saying that a gypsy for a wife isn't a real wife at all. He was convinced she didn't really love him and that she was dirty - whatever that meant. But it was too late, she was already pregnant with me and the whole town knew, he was forced to let her stay. And that is when he began drinking.

"It was my fault." I thought out loud.

"What? No, little unu. No, no! Is not your fault!" Grandmother comforted, holding me to her.

"No, if I wasn't born he wouldn't have drank. If he didn't drink, Mother would still be..." My words trailed off as I realized what I had said.

"What were you saying?" Grandmother looked down into my eyes intensely, knowingly.

"Nothing."

"Albert. Child. What did your father do?" She held me by my shoulders and starred into my eyes. "Albert, tell me what he did. Now." She insisted.

"Mama, stop! Don't! He is just child, lasa-l in pace." Aunt Aiesha pled.

"Aiesha, hush! Albert, tell me what he did to my Jaelle. Tell me what he did to your Mama!" She insisted, shaking me a bit.

"He killed her!" I shouted out, overwhelmed and frightened. Tears broke through my eyes as it was the first time I had ever spoken it.

My father had killed my mother.

Saying it made it true.

I shook, the words echoing within my skull.

I covered my ears, trying to make it stop.

He killed her. He killed her. He killed her.

Father killed Mother. Father killed Mother. Father killed Mother.

"Albert. Albert!" Grandmother's voice broke through my deafening thoughts.

She pulled me into a fierce hug, a hug I hadn't felt since my mother hugged me like that.

It felt warm, caring, and safe.

It felt like home. Real home. Comforting.

I cried into my grandmother as she cried back into me as we hugged each other.

"I knew it would come to this! But did she listen to her Mama, no! No! Oh, mi Jaelle! Mi baby! Oh no!" Grandmother cried.

Aunt Aiesha and Sera along with Luminitsa came over and enveloped us in hugs as well as we all cried together, comforting eachother. 

After a bit we had all cried ourselves out. Sitting back on the floor looking over my mother's hand writing, I read her notes describing me and how happy she was to have a little boy. 

"I just want her back so badly..." I whispered, out of tears. "I would die if it meant being with her again."

Aunt Aiesha looked to Grandmother with a certain look in her eye.

Look of concern?

Look of warning?

Look of pleading?

I was unsure.

What I was sure of was Grandmother's nod back to her.

"What? What is it Grandmother?" I questioned.

"Never you mind, child. Is nothing."

"Please don't hide things from me. I want to know....I need to know."

She looked to me with a thousand emotions in her eyes, her spirit wilting before me.

"I must tell him."

"No, Mama! No! He is child!" Aiesha scolded.

"Albert is no ordinary child Aiesha. I see many great things coming from him. He must know." She expained, fixated on me.

"What? What Grandmother?"

"Mama, no!" Aiesha shouted again.

"Look at his hands, Aiesha. Tell me what you see from him. This will let us know if I should say, eh?" Grandmother offered.

Aiesha gave Grandmother a look then got up and approached me.

"Let Auntie see your hands Albert?" She asked holding hers out for mine.

I lifted my palms up and she examined the lines on my palm.

Smiling faintly she traced them until her smile faded, following the lines with her eyes her breath grew as her eyes widened. Suddenly she looked up to me with fear in her eyes.

"O Doamne..." she exclaimed in a whisper only I could hear.

 

She nearly shook as her eyes locked onto my own, I looked back to her confused. She looked as if she was looking the devil in the face rather than me.

"Well Aiesha? Shall I speak with my grandson then?" Chuckled Grandmother.

Aiesha nodded and scurried away, making her way to the door.

"Yes, Mama. Whatever you'd like. I need a drink." She quickly spoke as she left and closed the door behind her.

"That was odd." Sera spoke to Luminitsa.

"Albert come here." Grandmother called to me.

I rose to my feet and stepped over to her, now back at the round table she sat at before.

"You want your Mama back? Yes?" She asked.

"More than anything in the world." I answered honestly.

"There is a way." She said in a hushed tone.

"There is a way to bring Mother back? Back to life?!" I asked, excited yet skeptical.

"Child, there is always a way." Luminitsa added.

"Sera, get the book." Grandmother commanded gently.

Sera got up and moved over to a bookcase, taking out a large black leather bound book.

"What is it?" I asked.

Sera put it down on the table before us.

"It is a Book of Secrets, of Shadows, of Magick." Grandmother explained as she opened it.

Opening the book alone sent out a burst of light air at us all, tussling my hair ever so, as a sign of it's power.

It was real.

Turning to a certain page Grandmother showed me.

It was a spell.

A Resurrection Spell.

A spell to bring back the dead to life.

"Does it really work?" I asked in awe.

"Yes, child. It does indeed." Grandmother nodded.

"How?"

"We just need her body, I have the rest." She explained.

"Oh no...."

"What is it, my child?" She questioned.

"Oh no!" I started hyper ventilating, anxiety rising.

"Albert, what is wrong?"

"I don't know where she is! He won't tell me!" I explained frantically.

"You don't know where she is buried?" Sera asked in shock.

"No! He took her and I don't know what he did with her! He won't tell me, I tried asking but he just won't- Oh no! Oh no! No no no!" I panicked.

"Calm child, calm. Shhh." Grandmother took me in another hug and rocked me gently to calm me. "Now is alright. We fix, we fix. Little Albert, you come so far and do so much. Sleep. You need sleep, baby. Sleep." 

She lulled me into a deep warm sleep.


	11. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

"No!" A scream awoke me as I found myself sleeping on the couch in the caravan. It was daylight out now and the front door was being barricaded by my Grandmother.

"Go away! Stay away from us! Leave us in peace!" She shouted in fear as something tried breaking down the door.

"Grandmother! What's going on?!" I asked jumping from the couch.

"Shh! Shh! Albert, hush now. Don't let them hear you! Go, run! Hide! They want to take you from us!" She explained as she fought to keep the door shut.

Realizing what she meant I ran and hid under the table, under it's long table cloth.

I held onto the tarot cards through my pants, wishing my mother were here to hold me in her safe arms now.

Suddenly, smash!

The door had broken in and my Grandmother screeched in pain.

"Where is the child?" A commanding voice prompted.

"My arm!" Grandmother cried.

"Where is the damned child, you crazy old hag?!" The voice insisted.

"No child here! Stupid!" Grandmother shouted. 

I could hear her spit followed by a loud smack and her cries. 

Foot steps approaching, no no.

Before I could blink the tablecloth was up and a police officer's face was looking at my own.

"Found the child!" He shouted loudly.

I cried, and kicked at him to get away.

"Come with me, boy." He commanded.

"No! Get away! Grandmother!!" I screamed.

"Get away from my Grandson!" Grandmother yelled as she clawed at the police officers face.

The two fought for a moment as I watched frozen in place like a frightened animal.

Picking up a pan from her small stove Grandmother whacked the police man in the head and he fell to the floor with a loud thump!

She took a breath as she looked at me.

"Albert, they are here for you. Your father brought them here. They will win, they have already set caravans on fire. Listen to me. Get the book, get the book and take it with you no matter what happens. It is yours. We are yours no matter what anyone

tells you. I am your grandmother and this is your home. Your family. Now go! Go!" She spoke fiercely.

I got up and dashed to the book picking it up in my arms.

She took the pan and began making her way outside to fight off others.

After she left and I was alone I stuffed the book under my shirt, behind my back.

Only seconds after I adjusted myself a police officer holding my Grandmother's arms behind her escorted her back inside, now without her pan. Behind him followed my father.

"Albert, there you are!" He exclaimed in a voice I knew was fake.

He approached me and hugged me, I hate him and tried pulling away.

"These awful people kidnapped you, are you alright, son?" He asked pinching my cheek.

I sneered.

"They are my family! How could you!" I shouted.

"Please. Excuse him." Father spoke, now picking me up in his arms and turning to the police. "He hasn't been in his right mind after what happened with his mother."

"And what happened to Nora, Henry?" Grandmother hissed.

"How dare you speak my wife's name witch! She had a mental break and went to a mental institute. However we only just received word that she somehow left there, she hasn't been home since then. We're worried sick. It's taking a toll on my son.

And these disgusting thieves choose now to strike at my family and steal my son away!" Father spoke, pointing his finger at Grandmother.

"If you all know what's good for you, you'll get out of town before night fall." The police officer threatened my Grandmother.

"He did it! Not her!" I shouted.

Grandmother gave me a look and shook her head 'no'. 

I knew what she meant, stay silent.

"We are leaving now." She answered.

"And never come back!" The police officer insisted as he shoved my Grandmother away from him.

I sobbed and cried and fought and kicked but nothing worked and I was too small.

I soon found myself back at home crying as I watched the gypsies, my family pass through town on their way out never to come back. The only thing I had of them was the magick book.

My father took my mother.

My father took my grandmother.

My father took my family.

I was left with tarot cards and a spell book, and a vast emptiness in my heart as loneliness surrounded me.


	12. I Call to the Dead

With black and blue bruises and welts covering my skin I dressed in my night clothes. Father had gotten his wraith out on me when we got home from the gypsy camp and had drank himself into a stooper the rest of the night, he was currently asleep in the parlor. 

However I was wide awake and devastated from all that had happened.

I held tight to my book and my tarot cards.

Opening the book I found the page on resurrection again.

It was an immensely intense feeling, gazing down at the old weathered pages of times past. The secret knowledge they held. The magick that danced within the book's spine.

It was awakening.

I felt my own power coming to life.

As if they were asleep all this time and just now cracking open an eye to look about.

I looked up from the page to the blocks I hadn't put away.

Perhaps that was how Father knew where to find me.

Damn it.

I couldn't bring myself to move them, though.

Mother had touched them last.

I wanted them to stay that way.

I wanted her to stay.

There must be a way to bring her back.

After all why would she send me all the way there if not to bring her back?

It was all right here, in my hands.

A resurrection spell.

And once she was alive again we could go find our family and be with them.

How wonderful that would all be.

Mother wearing bright colored clothing, sipping tea with Grandmother as I learn to play the music that flows through the air around the fire. Oh it would be amazing.

I must bring her back.

I looked down to the book's pages.

I would need a bowl of dirt, a bowl of water, a bowl with a lit candle, and a bowl of incense.

I would also need five more white candles, her body, fire ash, a jar and wine.

The only thing I didn't have was her body.

And yet I wondered.

Could I do it without her body?

Couldn't I just use a picture of her?

I could draw one up myself!

And take some hair from her hairbrush and use that too?

And her tarot cards and the blocks!

I did just that. I drew a picture as best I could of my mother, then put her hair, the tarot cards, and toy blocks on it. 

I surrounded that with the bowls and the whole thing with the candles.

Lighting them all I began the spell that very night!

"I call to the spirits, I call to the dead let me see my Mother again. I call to thee to reunite once more. I wish to see whom I seek, whom I miss bring her forth to me!"

I lifted the jar with some wine in it I swiped from a half empty bottle of Father's. I smashed it on the wooden floor, aware not to make much noise but unafraid of Father waking up - I knew he was out cold.

"Hear ye, Oh Faithful, drink upon this sacrifice! Drink in her name, For this portion is thine."

Taking the fire ash I sprinkled it on top of the picture of Mother. Just them a storm began harshly outside.

"From where it was taken, please do return, to the body that was once her's. With these words I set her free, with the power of the ancestors and elements intertwined, return to me what once was mine! Fire of Spirit, Water of Eyes, Earth of Body, Air of

Mind. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, heart beats again, for now it must."

Standing up with my hands raised to heavenn, wind wrapped around me beating at my hair as lighting flashed.

"I call forward the spirits of all the dead, bring to me back my Mother again! Mother and Son, for that is divine - On this night Resurrection is mine!"

I felt a powerful wave emit from me as the spell was fully cast, taking all the energy I had with it as suddenly everything faded to black.

Sunlight irritated my eyes as they fluttered open. I found myself on the floor of my room, remnants of the spell still all around me but the candles had all burnt out.

I bolted up, sitting strait.

The spell!

It was cast!

Mother!

I jumped up and ran downstairs.

Father had already left for work it seemed, thank goodness.

I hunted around for Mother.

She wasn't in her room, or my room.

She wasn't in the hallways, she wasn't in the kitchen.

She wasn't in the garden, and she wasn't in the parlor.

She wasn't in the dining room, and she...

she wasn't in the entry way...

...she wasn't anywhere.

She wasn't.

She was dead.

She wasn't coming back to life.

She was simply that.

Dead.

No spell was going to change that.

Nothing was going to change that.

 

**My Mother is dead.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to the next coming chapters to be about Albert's teenage years! We get to cheer him up a bit with some teen angst, growing pains, and maybe even some romance ;)
> 
> Stay tuned and don't forget to leave a kudos and/or a comment!


	13. Time moves ever forward...

As the seasons change so too do the seasons of life.

The years went on and from my boyhood I grew into the ripe age of fifteen.

I had no birthday parties, I was made no cakes.

However I had grown taller. Tallest in my class, actually.

Though my frame wasn't as brutish as some of the other males, I was stronger than I looked.

My eyes were still grey, my simple brown hair now grown out to my shoulders, my skin ever pale, and my nose was still consistently buried in medical journals - any I could find.

Father was it seemed forever strung out anymore and had his career threatened several times by it.

His liquor was turning into his own poison in a way as it was causing him more woe than it alleviated.

However this made it all the more easy to now enter his study at my leisure and take any medical or law books I saw fit.

I was now within my last year in hell - I mean school, with School Master Kessel.

The man had it out for me since day one it seemed, he had never fully gotten over whatever I had done wrong that first day of school.

To this day I still couldn't understand what his issue was but goodness knows he had one.

It was a common occurrence he would single me out of the class and punish me for any reason he could fathom.

'Albert, your shirt is too wrinkled.'

'Albert, your handwriting is disgruntled.'

'Albert, your shoes are scuffed.'

'Albert, you were not allowed to read ahead of the class.'

'Albert, your chair was not properly pushed in.'

'Albert, you were not permitted to take notes during class unless instructed.'

'Albert, you haven't participated enough this class.'

'Albert, you came to the correct answer using a method I did not instruct you to.'

And it always ended in the same few punishments.

Cleaning the chalkboard, scrubbing the floors, or having to stay after school and grade papers for him as he ate his dinner and micromanaged my grading techniques while scolding me for my grumbling belly.

And he always followed his immediate comment on my 'misbehavior' with a swift crack of his yard stick to my knuckles.

I swear he took great pride in it, because the pain in my hands would then slow down my ability to write as fast due to the swollen bruised and often times bleeding wounds across my knuckles.

However I took great pride in the fact that the man was forced to write me down with good grades. I studied so often that my work wouldn't allow him otherwise.

My classmates still didn't get along well with me, I found myself the butt of many a practical jokes over the years.

I would find insects within my lunch pail (when my lunch pail hadn't mysteriously vanished that is).

My books would go missing then when found the pages would be ripped out.

My hair would have random locks cut out of it.

Once a fire almost started due to someone knocking over a lantern and somehow had managed to blame me for it.

And let us not forget the classic random object mysteriously being tossed at my skull.

It was indescribably miserable.

No one did anything to stop it. No one cared.

Especially not School Master Kessel.

When he did catch who had done any of the above mentioned deeds, he would simply say: "I cannot prove it without a doubt. Therefore they will remain innocent until properly proven guilty."

Only to moments later find something else to scold me for.

Lilybelle and I didn't speak as regularly as I would have liked anymore, but she was still the only one to ever speak to me without an attempted taunt of some sort. The girl really was a kind and gentle creature.

One day during recess as I sat off to myself in the shadows, keeping from the sun that would burn my skin if it's rays touched me for too long, Lilybelle had left the other girls who had taken to playing marbles and had made her way over beside me.

"Lilybelle?" I questioned, holding my bleeding hands wrapped in some scrap cloth I had taken to bring with my from home. "What are you doing over here?"

"Don't be silly, you're my friend and you're hurt. I wanted to come see if you're alright." She spoke concerned as she knelt down beside me on the cool green grass.

"I'm fine." I answered shortly.

"Oh my word!" She suddenly reacted, her brilliant hazelnut eyes widening as she reached for my forehead.

"What?" I questioned taken off guard.

"Oh Albert, you're bleeding up here too." She pitied.

"Really? I couldn't even feel it." I nearly scoffed at myself.

"What do you mean you couldn't feel it? Doesn't it hurt?" She worried as she examined the mysterious wound.

"Not really."

"When did this happen? Do you know?"

"I would reason probably right before we came outside, a few pebbles were thrown at me as I came out the door. I suspect it was Robert but I didn't see for certain." I answered, thinking aloud.

"Didn't Kessel say anything?" She asked, genuinely.

I cocked a skeptical brow, "As if he would."

"Well it's left quite the mark on your head, I'll have you know...Oh Albert, I'm sorry they do this to you." She pouted now relaxing a bit, having wiped the blood from my brow to her acceptability.

"It's because I'm different, Lilybelle. Their minds are weak and what they don't understand they hate. The problem is, what they don't understand is me. However I can't help them understand me when their brains are so thick. To put it simply Lilybelle, they're ignorant fools that will never amount to anything worth significance in life. Their animalistic interactions have proven thusly. I only hope a plague might take them out before they procreate." I spoke openly, and perhaps too honestly within the company of a female.

"Albert! You don't mean that!" Lilybelle gasped.

"Forget I said anything. I'm just irritated from the pain." I quickly back stepped smoothly. My voice direct and cool.

A moment of silence befell us, which probably felt longer to me than it actually was.

"Tell me, how are your marble playing companions?" I asked, changing the subject.

With a sigh she looked off into the green blades of grass.

"They're fine, I suppose. Marybeth is rather on my nerves, though." She answered, now being equally honest with me.

I sat straighter at attention. What had she done to Lilybelle?

"Why is that?" I calmly insisted, hiding my growing resentment.

"She's always copying me. Haven't you noticed?"

"Explain." I pressed concerned.

"Well, you see when my pencil breaks only moments later her pencil will break. When I wear braids to school, the very next day so will she - in the same style no less. When I was complimented on my blue dress at church the very next week she came to church in an exceptionally similar dress, as if she made it after mine. If that all weren't enough she's suddenly found herself keen on Michael." Lilybelle explained.

"Michael?" I asked.

"Yes, Michael Dreaney. He sits near you in class, Albert you know him."

"Yes, of course I know who Michael is." I confirmed. "I should know the name of my very own unwanted barber...." I bitterly spoke under my breath.

"She's keen on him?" I returned to the conversation.

"Yes, and it's really rather annoying me very much." Lilybelle pouted, crossing her arms with a sour face.

"And why on earth would that be?" I scoffed, finding this entire rant of her's now frivolous. How did Michael enter into this at all? I nearly rolled my eyes at how unrelated he was to the topic.

"She's copying me on everything!" Lilybelle whined.

Suddenly the realization struck me.

"You're keen on Michael?" I asked without thinking.

My face had fallen from any expression and a strange sensation tightened my chest.

Whipping her midnight black curls as she spun her head to look to me she nodded.

"I do, and with her making cupid eyes at him anymore it's really very frustrating!" She complained.

I was silent for a moment, looking not at her but now at my wrapped hands.

The eggshell white fabric stained with hues of crimson and burgundy from my blood.

My knuckles throbbed as my mind tried to understand the odd sensation I was feeling from the new knowledge that Lilybelle was very fond of Michael.

"Oh Albert, what's wrong?" She questioned, touching my shoulder.

"Nothing, Lilybelle. Why would there be? Michael is a..." quickly I found myself grasping for any words I could find for Michael that were not drenched in hatred.

"Well he's a.... a good reader. He doesn't slow down the class when it's his turn to read aloud." I finally answered, not truly satisfied with my poor excuse for a good word to say on him.

Lilybelle gave a crooked soft smile, then suddenly pulled me into an unexpected hug.

My eyes widened in shock as I froze.

It had been years since I had gotten a hug.

I missed the sensation.

The warmth.

 

"Oh don't worry, Albert. I'm keen on you too!" She impishly whispered into my ear.

 

Before I could react her lips pressed against my cheek playfully before she released me from her grip.

She wore a sly grin as she darted to her feet and scampered away, to rejoin her marble friends - leaving me stunned in her wake.

Blinking I raised both bound and wounded hands to my cheek.

I had been kissed.

I had been kissed on the cheek by a girl!

By Lilybelle!

She was keen on me!

 _Lilybelle_ was keen on me!

A small smile cracked across my lips as I slowly lowered my hands back to my lap and looked off to her and the other girls playing.

 

Lilybelle was keen on me.

And I had found that I was keen on her.

I had been keen on her for a long time...

 

 

 


	14. Timley's Visit

The rest of the day was rather dull compared to that moment with Lilybelle out in the school house yard.

As I sat at my desk within the school house working on my lessons quietly along with the other students I had found myself drifting in my thoughts from school work and instead was thinking of Lilybelle.

I had never noticed until recently just how often I did think of her.

My only friend.

The only living thing which intrigued me past the normal medical way I found myself usually intrigued most by.

Like that butcher down the street from the town's bank, I was intrigued by him - or rather intrigued by his medical deformity. His left hand having webbed skin between his third and fourth fingers. How odd and wonderfully interesting that was from a scientific perspective. I had wondered if it was a genetic trait that ran through his ancestry line and if his children would develop or be born with it as well.

No, Lilybelle I was very intrigued by but in a drastically different sense.

I was intrigued by her mind, her smile, the way the sunlight coming through the window shined on her hair. How her clothing now rested upon her frame as she had aged and matured since we were young children. How she looked more and more like a woman each passing day and how I had begun finding her to potentially be more than just a childish friend, should she agree.

Oh but how I would throw myself into a fit at the thought of uttering such an idea out loud. What a fool am I to suggest such a ridiculous thing, we were after all school aged and not of proper courting age.

Courting? Oh lord, did that just enter my thoughts?

Lilybelle and I, courting? Oh no, that couldn't possibly actually happen. She would have other things to tend to just as I would of course, I had many responsibilities and no time for such silly foolish outings or such with her. Though if we ever did I would surely treat her as only a proper gentleman should, nothing like my father...

My father.

How the years had turned me bitter towards him.

Where once I had been sad and fearful of the man, I now despised him and wished I had the courage to tell him so.

The pathetic drunk. Always wasting away family funds on those horrible smelling bottles of alcoholic suicide.

Sometimes I secretly wished he'd drink himself enough not to wake back up the next morning. It was a cruel thought but he was a cruel man.

Many times I'd have to explain a bruise or cut on myself as an accident to Reverend Beck, who was the only one who ever asked about me or how I was other than Lilybelle.

Little did anyone know what really went on behind closed doors when my father would drink himself into a frenzy and scream profanities at me while tossing empty glass bottles at my head. Always without reason or provocation.

How I hated that man.

That very evening as I returned to that cold hollow house I was forced to call home, I found my father in another fit. This time with one of his business colleagues in parlor with him.

I was shocked to see them through the windows, no one ever came to visit our house.

I quickly stepped up to the front door and let myself in, quietly as to not alert my father to my presence.

I stepped into the entry hall and silently listened around the corner into the parlor.

"I'm telling you Henry, if you don't put the bottle down you're going to either loose your job or wind up six feet under. This is embarassing that I need to tell you this. So your wife went looney and got locked away, go find another broad to warm the bed but this liquor is getting out of hand. I'm not going to vouch for you at work again." Mr. William Timley spoke.

"You shut your pig mouth Timley, you don't know nothin' about nothin'!" Father shouted in a slurred voice.

I nearly jumped as I heard a smash, thinking my father had attempted to attack William but thank heavens it was actually the sound of him knocking some bottles over as he collapsed onto the sofa.

"Caine, this is pathetic." William Timley said, looking down his nose at my worm of a father.

My father looked up at Mr. Timley as if there were four of him and he couldn't decide which was the true Timley.

"I don't wanna have to...you know me, I'm your pal....you just don't know how hard I have it...you're such a good friend, but damn it your a swine!" My father slurred while he tried to string together an incoherent sentence.

"Caine. Just shut up. Sleep it off, you belligerent mutt. I can't even talk to you in this state." Timley sighed in an annoyed tone before turning to leave the room.

In a blink of an eye he turned the corner to find himself face to face with me in the entry hall.

I wanted to dig a hole in the earth, climb in it, bury myself, put a heavy rock over it, and never come out again as our eyes locked.

"Uh, h-hello. Mr.Timley. How nice of you to drop by today." I scrambled to remember how to speak to guests.

I stepped back and let him into the entry hall further while he nodded to me.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, son. Though I expect you've probably heard it all by now if he's gotten this bad with it that he can't even control himself at work." Timley said, his voice much more agreeable and polite now that he wasn't dealing with my drunken father.

His words shook me for a moment. As if life had paused just enough for me to reflect on those words.

You've probably heard it all by now...

I heard my father and mother arguing, that was the last time I heard my mother's voice when she was alive.

I could almost hear her screams now, as if they were a ghostly whisper from the past as I stood in the hall she had died in so many years ago now.

I felt the most incredible urge to turn around and look down the hall to the bottom of the stairs where I remembered vividly her body laid.

Framed by a pool of crimson around her limp corpse.

I couldn't turn around though, he might suspect something.

You stay still Albert, don't you dare look.

"What happened at work?" I found my voice took on a life of it's own as the words poured out of me as calmly and casually as if I had been unbothered the whole time.

With a sigh Timley explained, "Your father walked into court today in defense of a robbery at a nearby farm, strutted right up to the Judge and called him...well, he called him a jack ass for not immediately finding his client innocent. In front of the entire court. His breath stunk of whiskey and his clothes and thoughts for that matter were disheveled. He was an utter mess. Judge Hawthorn wanted him removed as a lawyer of this town immediately."

My eyes were wide in shock.

"Was he fired?" were the only words I could find to respond with.

"I'm not sure yet. I spoke to the judge and tried to convince him that someone had purposely drugged him in order to get a mistrial but I'm not sure anyone would buy that story." He explained.

Bringing my pale and bruised hands to my face I casually massaged my forehead as a all too common headache began to form.

"They're going to lock him away too if he doesn't get control of himself." Timley frowned looking off into the parlor, then looked at me with a guilty expression. He had forgotten for a moment that my 'mother was locked away in a loony bin'.

I wasn't insulted by his words though. She was dead but he didn't know, so the whole mental asylum thing did nothing for me other that feed my resentment for my father that he would defile the town's memory of her as a crazed woman.

No I agreed, my father should be locked up in a loony bin.

I let out a frustrated sigh and brought my hands to my temples in stress. Stepping back I leaned against a wall, wanting to scream out at all the madness that was my life.

"Timley, what am I going to do?" I let out, trying to hide the fear growing in the pit of my hungry stomach.

The man barely made enough money to afford his booze, if he was laid off from his job how would they support themselves? Who would pay the bills? Where would the funding for this tattered miserable household come from? As it was I only ate once a day and that was usually a bucket lunch I had packed myself for school.

I did my very best to conserve food around the kitchen, but damn it all, it would eventually rot and become worthless if I didn't eat some of it in time.

Most people thought of teenagers as awkward gangley things. Nothing more than a skeleton of an adult pulling at the skin of a child making the teen aged person look like an odd bumbling thing to those more matured. However I'd be lying if I were to tell someone that I was as gangley as I looked because of my conservative diet.

And all of that was thanks to my bloody worthless father who spent all of his prideful earnings as a lawyer on his drink, caring not what happened to anyone else....or to me.

However if he had truly destroyed his chances of continuing his rapidly lowering position as a lawyer, all of that would change.

And then what would we do?

"A young man like you, Albert, needs to keep his mind focused on his studies." Timley unsympathetically tried to comfort me.

I could feel frustration building behind my brows at his words but I would not let it show.

"Timley, if he has lost his workplace...how...? We don't have food as it is." I blurted out, clenching my teeth at my final words as punishment to myself for uttering them.

His eyebrows jumped a bit as his green eyes widened.

Then his face changed.

His face twisted in a way the pit of my stomach did not like.

His face looked dark and sinister.

His face looked like an all too happy hissing snake.

"I suppose that would put one in a rather desperate position then. Would it not?" He spoke, turning his nose up at me as if there were more he were about to say.

I examined him up and down unsure of where he was going with any of this and feeling confused at the sudden shift of the conversation.

"Might make a man willing to do anything...?" He spoke again, taunting me.

"Might even make a man so desperate as to take matters into his own hands. Do something rather irregular..." He mused grimly.

My cool steel blue eyes locked on him with severity.

"What is it?" I finally spoke.

"Say...if there were a person looking to donate a nice little sum of money in exchange for someone to fix a little problem?" Timley vaguely explained.

"What sort of problem?" I pressed.

"There is a man who's wife has strayed. Looking to the milk lad for intimacy. Very scandalous. This man wants the pest control problem fixed and will pay off anyone who can make sure that young man leaves town and never looks back." Timley explained, and continued. "Would someone in such a predicament as you-"

"Where is the milk man and how much does it pay?" I questioned intensely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was actually originally only half of a chapter but it got so long I had to cut it in half. More Lilybelle coming soon!


	15. Buckley's Deal

It had been a long time since I had sat inside of a carriage. In fact I could barely remember the last time I had. It was growing dark out now as rain drops pittered against the glass windows of the carriage as trees and fences passed by. The sky looked like fire in spots and deep dark water in others. There was a plum sort of hue in the distance as dare I say it, stars began awakening for the night.

 

I sat across from Timley inside of his fine carriage, the sort you would expect a lawyer to own and ride in. It had modest golden mustard velvet cushioned seats and simple oak walls, not the grandest of carriages but certainly the finest I had ever had the privilege to ride in.

 

Timley was a barrel shaped man who's brown suit matched the oak carriage unnervingly well, his green vest popping against the sepia toned outfit. His greying mousey blonde mustache was thick and twirled into two curls at either end which somehow looked sinister in the darkening light.

 

I myself though must have been more hidden in the shadows than he as it seemed he needed to narrow his eyes a bit to see me. It seems my pale skin tone would have stood out against the oak if it had not faded in the shadows of the dimly lit carriage and my worn dark blue clothes did nothing to help aside from show where I sat as a contrast to the yellow seats. My shoulder length hair swayed as the carriage moved to and frow, gently slapping against the cheek as I allowed my head to hang down low in a slump in my dark numb mood.

 

I had no idea exactly what to expect from this mystery man with this milk man problem but from how Timley spoke about him, however vaguely, he sounded like someone of repute. What they wanted me to do precisely, I did not know. All I did know was the painful sore in my belly ached in vicious anger for me to do what needed to be done so that I would be able to eat again.

 

Inwardly I sounded desperate, outwardly I looked desperate, I was in a position I would curse the thought to be in again. However if my father would not be man enough to do what needed to be done, I would have to in order to survive.

 

My damned father.

 

We had left my father on the sofa to rot in his drunken stupor. Part of me wished when I did eventually return home he would have choked on his own vomit and be dead.

 

Dead like my mother.

 

Dead like my soul.

 

How I loathed him more and more with each breath I took within Timley's carriage on my way to do something illegal for money. How pathetic. It felt below me to do something for the sake of money, but again my stomach's pains protested my thoughts of self deplorability.

  
"Yes?" Timley asked.

 

Blinking I shook my thoughts away as I just realized he had been speaking to me again.

 

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked in a slight daze.

 

"I said you might as well know by now whom I'm bringing you to speak with, boy. Have you figured it out yet?" He spoke with a dark smirk, his glistening eyes gazing out the soda lime glass windows.

 

My back arched a bit straighter in interest of what he might have to say. I had been so deep in thought of my own life I had barely given thought to the man whom I was being delivered to.

 

Looking back out the windows of the carriage I saw dead trees pass and autumn leaves wisp past in the wind. Only now did I look further to notice some shape....no shapes, plural. Strange shapes passing by the windows.

 

My eyes widened a bit as I began to realize how many of these strange shapes there were. From just my current view there had to be more than one hundred. These shapes, some short and some tall, were stones. Not just any stones, mind you - they were gravestones. The carriage was passing through a cemetery towards this mystery man's home.

 

It was the town's cemetery, I could recognize it anywhere for it was the only land the small town had to lay their dead to rest. A bit of a monopoly in hindsight, but I was hardly concerned with another man's business right now. Especially when I might get some of his money for handling a problem for him.

 

The cemetery went under the name Shady Oak Cemetery, and just next door to it sat the large colonial manor house where the graveyard's caretaker lived. He doubled as the town's mortician, due to the town being so small it was common for some men to have more than one occupation if it related to their other. Such as the case for town mortician, Mr. Buckley.

 

I'll admit I had yet to actually meet the man in person, as he never attended church services except for on christian holidays of which I had always managed to miss him not that I cared to catch him at a service just that I had never laid eyes on him in person. I knew not of what he looked like or of how he spoke, all I knew was that he was in charge of the town cemetary and of burying dead bodies. He wasn't even a coroner as I'd heard it, the town doctor was the one who did all of the medical work.

 

"Yes?" Timley questioned again, once more pulling me from my ever abducting thoughts.

 

"Um, yes. Yes. This is the town cemetery. Shady Oak as I've heard it called. The caretaker and mortician lives in that house up there-" I nodded out the window and towards the approaching residence. "You're taking me to, Mr. Buckley is it?"

 

"Fine deduction skills." Timley scoffed, mocking me for how long it took for me to answer.

 

"Yes. Mr. Buckley is a good friend of mine, his wife...well I'll allow him to explain it all to you at his own pace and detail." Timley grinned a fake toothy smile.

 

At that moment I nearly popped out of my seat as the sudden and fierce halt of the carriage and it nearly screeched to a stop. Catching myself on the seat my eyes bugged a bit at the surprise of the sudden jerking motion of the carriage but before I could gather myself the door had flung open and Timley had began stepping out of the carriage. Blinking and trying to calm myself I slowly rose from my seat then scattered out of the door, stepping onto the cobblestone path before me.

 

Following Timley up the cobblestone path to the wooden front porch of the old white manor. It had a certain southern colonial charm to it that I found rather handsome for a house. Two large front doors greeted us as a flickering gas lit black iron lantern hung from above dangling down from the grand awning.

 

Timley's coachman tended to the horse and carriage I noticed as I looked back to them, as if I were somehow looking at my last chance to change my mind about meeting this mysterious Mr.Buckley. However I quickly shrugged it off as I turned back to the doors that Timley knocked on.

 

Through the windows once could easily see the home was alive with light pouring out from the glass windows and into the ever darkening night. The chilly october breeze curled around me as I stood outside waiting. In a moments time the door on the left opened as a greying haired woman with a bird like nose peered out at us.

 

"Timley? How may I help you at this time at night?" The woman masked her sneer. It was at this moment I noticed her small white bonnet indicating her status as a maid.

 

"Oh Fanny, let me and this fellow in. We're here for Mr.Buckley's deal. This chap would like to offer his services to help Buckley with his...dilemma." Timley explained with a demonically polite smile.

 

"Hmph. Master Buckley's dilemma, huh? Alright then, right this way." She responded before opening the doors to allow us inside the manor. She seemed rather unimpressed with us and dare I say downright displeased with us bothering her.

 

"Thank you, Fanny. I don't wish to put you out so if you'd just tell me where Mr.Buckley is I can take this young man to him myself." Timley chirped.

 

The whole situation at this point felt anything but pleasant, no matter how many people plastered a grin on their face.

 

"Fine. He's in his library, as he always is. I best go tend to the Mrs." She replied with a shrug before walking off into the manor.

 

It was a grand entry way, there was a beautiful stained glass window, the colors a striking contrast to the rest of the room which seemed bleak and barren.

 

"Right this way, Albert. We don't want to take up any more of their time than need be." Timley spoke gesturing me to follow him into the maze of a house I had found myself within.

 

After walking past finely furnished hallways and rooms, brightly lit though hauntingly empty of life I found myself before large dark cherry wood doors with Timley at my side.

 

"He should be in here. Just let me do most of the talking." Timley winked before suddenly opening the doors.

 

Inside the room one could not mistake it for anything else but a private library. The walls were utterly covered in books of all sizes and colors. On one wall there was only one area not covered in books and that was the fireplace, above it's cluttered mantle rested a portrait of rather serious yet friendly looking man.

 

Moonlight entered into the room through the large pane windows on the far wall and in the center of the room sat a desk with a plush chair, and a few steps away two couches facing one another and a coffee table between them.

 

On one of the couches lay resting with a glass of brandy in hand, the mysterious and rather unimpressive looking Mr. Buckley.

 

"Buckley, how are you old friend?" Timley belted with a grin as he approached the unsuspecting man.

 

"Timley? What in god's name are you doing here, man?" Buckley chuckled as he sat up and placed his glass on the coffee table.

 

Once standing both men clasped their hands together strongly and shook as brutish friends do.

 

I however lingered in the doorway, not quite in the library but not quite in the hallway either. I watched the men interact as if I were a ghost lost in time, but was soon spotted.

 

"And who is this?" Buckley asked, looking down his nose at me across the room.

 

Buckley was a sturdy man but strong wasn't the exact word one would use to describe him. He seemed like in his youth he may have been a proper boxer or soldier but age had worn him down and weakened him. It was clear he had a limp and his back curled like a wounded animal as he hunched ever so slightly. An untrained eye might not have noticed but with my medical knowledge I could clearly see he was in bad shape now from past wounds. He had dark hair and a simple mustache, his eyes were brown and his clothing covered in a burgundy house robe.

 

"This is Albert Caine. You know, Henry's boy." Timley answered.

 

"Ah, Caine's young man. What is his business here exactly?" Buckley tilted his head at Timley, confused.

 

"It seems Henry's habit has finally caught up with him I'm afraid and Albert here is in a very bad way. He's willing to do just about anything and keep it to himself for any money one might be able to hand out." Timley slyly spoke.

 

I stepped forward, into the room. "That's right, sir. I hear you have been plagued by a certain pest you would like removed. Pest control is something I might be able to help with, provided the payment is handsome enough."

 

Timley shot me a look, I knew he wouldn't want me to speak for fear I would sound like a childish school boy but now he had realized the reason he should have wanted me to stay silent - I wasn't about to be given a small amount of pay for whatever it is they wanted. I needed food and to live decently, a small pouch of coins wasn't going to cut it for me.

 

An hour had passed as the three of us had sat in the library talking it over.

 

Buckley's wife Camilla had taken the milk man as a lover behind Buckley's back. Buckley had devised a plan for someone, who would be me, to find this lover boy and ensure he would never bother Camilla again.

 

Simple enough. I thought.

 

Buckley agreed he would pay be four hundred shillings to have this milk man gone by Friday evening.

 

I nearly fainted as I had gotten him to agree to raise the price.

 

That would be enough to attend medical school.

 

Oh my word, I would be able to attend medical school!

 

It had felt impossible what with the money situation since Mother died, but now....oh god now it was like a glimmer of light shining from the heavens cascading down onto me a feeling I had not enjoyed in years -

 

Hope.

 

"Consider it done." I answered, all too sure of myself.

 

The deal was made. The pact agreed on.

 

By this Friday night I would be drowning in money, and ensuring my future in putting my medical knowledge to use.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it's been taking a while to update this. I've been going through a lot lately what with travel, the loss of my best furry friend, and the holidays. I will write more of this and I promise it's not dead! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, however kind of dull it may be, because the next chapter is going to be a real treat. Albert has nearly a full week to pull off his end of the deal and there's a few important things going to happen before then. Thanks for reading!


	16. Black Ink

After shaking on our deal and bidding eachother fairwell Timley took me by carraige back to my small humble house. After being at Buckley's mansion it made my own house look so small and simple. I dreaded the thought of entering into that abismal place but it was the only place I could go.

Bidding Timley a good night I pressed open the simple worn out front door and stepped inside my house.

 

I refused to refer to it as home, for it wasn't a home. Just a house. There was no sense of belonging. No sense of joy. No sense of family. Nothing but empty air void of any comfort a home brings to oneself.

Silently and briskly I made my way to the kitchen, made myself some stale bread and a cup of water for supper. Then made my way upstairs to my room.

My father snored loudly from the parlor the entire time, thank goodness. He was out cold.

I climbed in bed and for the first time since I could remember, I smiled to myself as I allowed myself to dream of that money that I would use to finally attend a real school.

Medical school.

Oh the fascinating subjects I would learn - Anatomy, Biochemistry, Cell Biology, Embryology, Genetics, Human Behavior, Immunology, Neuroscience, Physiology.  
My eager mind would suck it up like a sponge, hungry to learn every minor detail.  
These thoughts, hopes, dreams swirled around within my skull as I slept through the night until I awoke much to my dismay to find myself back in that small plain little room.

That simple, dull, colorless little room.

 

As per usual I dressed myself and combed my hair which had begun hanging longer and longer each day, noting to myself how the spots of randomly cut hair from Michael at school had begun to fade into the rest of my hair. They had started becoming unnoticable and more acceptable, giving me a small smirk in the mirror to myself.

I had made my way to school just as always, as if the whole evening last night was nothing more than a dream. Though I knew it wasn't. I had made a deal to get rid of that milk man and God as my witness I would do it for the chance to attend medical school and get out of this pit of misery that was Kessler's schoolhouse.

School was as dull and boring as ever as School Master Kessel dragged on and on about some meaningless trivial subject he had repeated every year at us. I had my nose buried in a medical journal I had hidden behind my school book so that Kessel had no idea what I was so diligently reading.

I had to, it was true learning and studying after all and I was to attend medical school now where I would at long last be able to apply my knowledge and learn more of my trade.

A sudden and unexpected tap on my shoulder made me flinch as I turned to see behind me in his unusual seat none other than Michael Dreaney. My brow cocked at the strange behavior of the male, as he sat up with crossed arms on his desk and an impish toothy grin on his face.

  
What he could possibly want my attention for was beyond me but my gut insisted it wasn't for anything good.

He chuckled darkly with tinked eyes as he spoke, "Hey Albert, I heard a rumor about you."

With narrowing eyes and an unamused look I replied, "What sort of rumor is it now?"

"A rumor of romance, my lucky fellow." He chuckled again.

"Romance?" I questioned, now lost in the direction of the conversation.

"Uh huh." He smiled crookedly as his tongue squirmed around in his mouth.

Blinking I turned around in my seat, facing forward once more and returning to my book.

"I don't concern myself with the affairs of frivilous rumors." I answered shortly.

"Even ones about girls making sweet eyes at you?" Michael played his ace.

My eyes shot instictively at Lilybelle off in the front left corner of the room at her desk, her hair half up in a braided crown around the rest of her hanging raven black locks. She hadn't noticed my gaze as she tended to preparing her school books on her desk while chirping away with Janet Monaghan.

Turning around back to Michael, my eyes more intense than I meant to show, I questioned, "What are you going on about, Michael?"

Leaning back in his chair he raised his arms over his head and back around his neck, mighty proud of the rise he had sturred from me.

"Make your point or leave me be." I demanded coldly.

"Word is one of the girls fancy you. I don't get it, pft no one does, but the fact is the fact. She finds you, what was the word? Mysterious." His eyes were like a shark while his lips curled as he spoke.

Was he speaking of Lilybelle? 

Had she told?

Had others seen her kiss my cheek the other day?

Did she fancy me so much as to tell the other students about it?

My cheeks flushed slightly as I tried to hold back any form of reaction.

"A girl fancies me? Hmph. Which one?" I bluffed that I hadn't a care in the matter at all.

Michael laughed at me, his face twisted in a sick amusement.

"Don't you get it? It's a rumor, Albert. I can't tell you who it is, dummy! You're lucky I said anything at all to you, I wouldn't have if she hadn't asked me to." Michael explained, returning to his normal behavior of dislike of me.

"She asked you to tell me?"

"Yeah, but that's all I'm saying. I ain't no snitch." Michael replied, his eyes turning from me to something behind me. 

My eyes narrowed in question as to what he was looking at when I suddenly felt it.

My facial expression erased into one of pure numb disappointment.

Beads of liquid rolled down my back as my clothes soaked up as much as they could while it spread throughout my back.

I knew what it was, I didn't even have to look.

Ink.

I turned to find Anthony Leevs with his ink well emptied as evil laughter erupted from his mouth quietly so as not to notify Kessel.

Parts of my oak brown hair were stained in ink as my worn out navy blue jacket was smudged in black.

He had poured his ink well down the collar of my shirt, down my back.

With a look carved out of rage I glared at both of them, my eyes switching between Michael and Anthony as I realized they had tag teamed me. 

"What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?" I questioned loudly in anger.

The class went silent.

I scowled at the two as footsteps from behind approached.

Kessel.

"Albert Caine. Why have you disrupted my class yet again?" He questioned bitterly.

Turning around I knew it was no use, yet my tongue continued.

"They have poured ink down my back!" I shouted unexpectedly.

Kessel crossed his arms and raised a brow.

"Is this true?" He asked over me to Michael and Anthony.

Anthony held the inkwell in his hand with an expression of guilt but Michael was slick.

"No, sir. Anthony dropped it. If Albert hadn't been talking to me during class he wouldn't have been in the position to have caught any ink on him anyway. It was only an accident on Anthony's end. I'm very sorry, sir. I shouldn't have allowed Albert to distract me from my studies." Michael explained as any clever deceiver would.

Absolute loathing wasn't a strong enough word for the expression I held for the two in that moment.

"Ah I see, Michael. Thank you for explaining. Anthony go get another inkwell from the shelves. Albert turn around and mind your own studies, you may clean up at home after you spend detention with me again. Perhaps one day you won't be a bothersome pest to this class but it seems that day isn't today." Kessler spoke in his mightier than though voice and turned back to continue boring the class with his latest lesson.

I would like to say I was shocked, however I wasn't. 

This is how it always was, and would always be with Kessler.

How I hated this school.

Michael and Anthony snickered to each other as I attempted to ignore them just as I ignored the cold sticky black ink all over my back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's taken so long to update. I promise you I haven't forgotten or grown apart from this story at all. October - Dec is an exceptionally crazy time for me and it literally boiled down to just not having the time to write for this. Every chance I had I took and this chapter you read was written in parts throughout the last few months. This and the next chapter coming were originally supposed to be one chapter but it has gotten so long and it's been so long since I updated I figured I'd separate them into two chapters so you all have something to enjoy now. Remember Albert has to get rid of the milkman by Friday night and in the story it's only Wednesday, and there's lots still to happen before then. I'll also give you something else to look forward to in the story - it's almost Halloween Night. ;) Stay tuned!


	17. The Fight On The Stone Bridge

After a hand full of monotonous subjects were covered I along with the rest of my pupils were allowed outside. The black ink now dry on my back and having stained my shirt had irritated me all day. It was humiliating. 

Once outside the October winds did their best to cool off the afternoon sun's rays. As usual I brought a medical journal with me, one I had no reread in a while, and made my way over to a shady spot under a tree and far out of the way of any of the others.

Preparing to sit down and peal open my book to reabsorb as much surgical knowledge as I could, something interrupted me. Pausing in place my head spun to the direction of the sound.

LilyBelle.

She and Michael were off to themselves on the old stone bridge near the schoolhouse.

Narrowing my eyes I pondered, what were they doing there?

Again the same sound emitted from them, from her. A soft pouty yell which words were undistinguished as they carried on the wind.

What was going on down there?

As if possessed I began walking down to the bridge, curiosity and potential anger on my face. Without thinking I made my way to them, as soon as I came to my senses I was already standing on the stone bridge. Neither had noticed me, until now as both faces turned to me. Michael's face showing aggression while LilyBelle's showed grimacing frustration. 

"Albert!" She let out, her eyes widening as she looked upon me.

Before Michael could react she began running towards me, grabbing hold of my arm for emotional support.

I stood there in shock.

"Ah, Ink boy's here." Michael spoke, his words snarky.

"What is going on here?" I insisted with LilyBelle holding to me tightly.

Her warm walnut eyes looked up to me with distress.

"Michael is saying lies about me!" She explained then turned to look to Michael defending herself, "It's simply not true!"

"Oh yeah, sure. Someone just made it up then!" He sarcastically raised his voice.

"What has he lied about?" I asked LilyBelle, looking down to her as my shoulder length brown hair hung around my face.

"He said-"

"It's no lie! It's the truth! PrissyBelle over here's starring in quite the rumor. Making heart eyes at Liam, while whispering sweet nothings in Jacob's ear, and holding hands with Anthony. All the while telling me today that she's sweet on someone else too! She's got a long list of boys she admires, and my mother told me the only kind of girl who's like that is a trollop!" Michael accused, his brows full of expression and disgust.

At his words a red fury bubbled within me, how dare he accuse Lilybelle of such lies! She was a kind and gentle girl, she would never do such things for she was much too modest of a person.

"How dare you speak such depraved insults at her!" I snarled, taking a step in front of her as she clung ever tightly.

Beginning to tear she hid her face in my sleeve, "Albert please, let's go. He's nasty!" she cried quietly to me.

Michael suddenly stood up a bit straighter, his expression changing from one of irritable vexation to one of savvy wrath and amusement.

"Oh ho ho! Don't tell me, she's seduced you too? Ha, the living scarecrow! LilyBelle the tart has turned your heart a flutter, has she? Oh this is too rich!" He barked in laughter, a sadistic smile pulling his lips.

My heart sank, he knew! Oh god he knew of my feelings for her! He would use this against me no doubt. As if my life wasn't already hell enough. Everyday now he and the others would torment me and LilyBelle as if it were some embarrassing crime to have feelings past acquaintances between us both.

"You have no idea of what you speak of, Michael Dreary! You're behaving cruelly towards LilyBelle who has done nothing to provoke you, speaking vicious lies about her! She's an innocent young lady and you-...you're a scoundrel!" I yelled, beginning to go blind in pure fury.

"Albert, please! Let's go!" She cried loudly, now attempting to pull me away.

Michael laughed like the devil he was.

"Poor Albert, you always were a stupid fool! She's no respectable young lady, she's got you duped! Then again I shouldn't expect so much from a freak with ink running down his back and a drunken father who lost his job! Telling by your clothes you haven't much a penny to your name left, perhaps your mother could sew up those tears in your clothes down at the lunatic asylum!" Michael's lip curled in an evil grin as his crooked teeth spat insults at me. 

He attacked LilyBelle, he attacked me, he attacked my father, but most of all he attacked my mother - not knowing the truth of her death instead believing, like the rest of the town, my father's lies.

"Albert, you're scaring me-" were the last words I heard from LilyBelle as my hand clenched into a fist and I set off in a fit of hot rage at Michael.

I nearly blacked out in the storm of hatred that ruled my body. Swinging fists and kicks at him. He fought back which only angered me more and fueled my fury. 

I had to defend her.

I had to defend LilyBelle.

I had to defend my mother.

Finally I had him down, pinned against the cold hard stones of the bridge and beneath my feet. Stomping and stomping I hissed profanities at him, loosing myself in the moment I spit on him and kicked again; harder.

I wanted him to feel the pain. I wanted him to squirm like the worm he was beneath me. Beg for my mercy which you will never ever be rewarded. Bruise, bleed, cry damn you. Why won't you just die?

And like that suddenly I was being pulled away.

Two other large boys had grabbed me and dragged me from Michael as I slowly came back to my senses. A crowd of schoolmates had gathered around, all with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Feeling my heart pound in my chest anxiety befell me. 

They would hate me even more now.

My eyes darted around like a crazed animal as I hunted for sight of LilyBelle.

There she was, she had fallen down somehow and was sitting on the floor of the bridge up against one of the railings. Her black hair now a bit messed yet she looked as beautiful as ever slightly disheveled. 

"Stop, calm down. Just stop!" One of the boys said to me as they continued to drag me a fair distance away from Michael who was still laying there with bruises and blood on his face.

"I'm alright. I'm done. I'm fine." I insisted pulling away from their grip while showing I wasn't going to return to Michael.

"What happened?" some other girl questioned from the crowd of students.

I stood tall and fixed my wrinkled clothes as I peered over to Michael. Slowly he sat up with a sour look on his face. Wiping blood from his nose and his mouth with his sleeve he pouted bitterly ashamed. 

"What are you all looking at? There ain't nothing to see here! Go find something else to gawk at, you hens!" He shouted, clearly internally devastated yet not willing to show it.

At his loud words LilyBelle flinched in fear before struggling through her dress to her feet. Quickly she trotted over to where I stood, looking over her shoulder to Michael in dread while doing so.

"LilyBelle, are you alright? I'm so sorry I don't know what came over-" I tried to speak, horrified at what her reaction to me would be considering her looks to Michael.

Instantly though, even cutting off my words as I spoke, she embraced me in a warm hug.

My expression no doubt showed my shock as a soft gasp escaped my lips at her touch.

Behind her I caught sight of Michael pulling himself to his feet, still trembling in pain and defeat. He was no longer a threat.

I wrapped my arms gently around her, holding her to me softly. Her head just tucked beneath my chin.

"Are you alright?" She whimpered into my chest before I released her from my grasp.

She took a step back while still holding to my arms, her emerald orbs over looking me.

"I'm quite fine."

"Are you sure? There's blood on your shirt." She worried.

"It's his blood, not mine. I'm fine, I promise you." I assured with a smile.

She cared.

She cared so much as to ask about the stains of blood.

She cared.

"I'm more concerned about you, are you hurt?" I pressed, distress lining my face as I now looked over her.

"Yes, yes. I'm alright. When you went to him I followed and in both of your fits Michael pushed me instead of you. I fell but I think I'm alright. It hurt my shoulder a bit though I will admit." She explained.

The other students had disassembled and scattered around the school yard now. Michael limping away with his cronies all tousled from our fight.

"Your shoulder?" I questioned, instantly feeling sick at the notion of her in pain.

"It's just a small bruise, it will heal." She spoke while pulling her dress' collar to one side so that I could see the purple marking on her skin. Re-situating her dress' collar she sighed.

"I don't like that you two would fight like that though. Like animals in the wild. It's too much to bare, you both really scared me." She whined caringly.

"I'm so sorry, LilyBelle. I shouldn't have done that, it was wrong. There are more appropriate ways to handle these matters, I should've-"

"It's over now." She interrupted, wiping a left over tear from her cheek.

"And anyways, you meant well by it so I can't very well be upset with you, now can I?" She playfully smiled through her flushed and teary face.

I gave a small smile back to her, comforted by her words that she hadn't grown to hate me for what I had done.

And judging my the lack of pitchforks and torches around, neither did my fellow students hate me... or at least any more than they already had.

"LilyBelle, I....-" My words were cut off by the shrill unexpected sound of that clanging school bell ringing the students inside.

The sudden realization over swept me, Kessel hadn't been outside and hadn't found out about the fight! Oh what luck! 

But...he would soon learn of it once Michael returned inside in the black and blue state he was in. Oh what luck....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Yeah I know, it's been taking a hot minute for new chapters lately but rest assured I'm working on more to come and have not forgotten this piece. I love Albert way too much to ever abandon him, don't worry lol.
> 
> More LilyBelle/Albert to come as the next few chapters are going to see them be given the chance to be normal teenagers and enjoy something fun together with friends.  
> Nothing could possibly go wrong from that, right? >:)


	18. Clean It Up

That night I walked home from school very late. It was dark out and my hands bled from scrubbing the schoolhouse floor with my bare hands, soap, and steaming hot water. There were scratches, blisters, and splinters in my skin, ink on my clothes and my back, and a painful absence of food in my belly. It was moments like these as I carried my sore body across the dirt roads of Carey that I found myself wishing I was dead. 

Dead like my Mother.

Dead _with_ my Mother.

In death there is no pain. 

No suffering.

Not like in life.

The moon gave me light but no comfort, while the stars watched me in the darkness like cold uncaring eyes of angels who held no pity for me.

Finally I reached my house.

Or rather _the_ house.

The heartless abode I had been saddled with since birth.

Walking through the door I locked it tight behind me. Instantly the strong scent of booze flooded over me, my father had done his best to stain the air with it. I could hear him snoring in the other room as I made my way to the kitchen.

The day had been a rotten one, but one good thing came from it and that was winning that fight with Michael for Lilybelle's honor. That one moment brought a smile to my tired face as I moved through the kitchen collecting pieces to a meal.

I sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water as well as a plate with some cheese and a bit of stale bread. A good meal to reward a harsh day. 

In silence I ate, fighting back sleep in order to chew. My thoughts only on Lilybelle.

She was so sweet, so kind, and so caring. How could anyone speak to her in such a way as Michael did? And even worse, accuse her of being some.... I couldn't even think such a word that close to Lilybelle's pure name. Michael was despicable for behaving in such a way, unforgivably despicable.

"Who told you that you could eat that?"

My face dropped as my eyes looked to the shadow in the kitchen doorway.

My father.

He had woken up and stumbled his way to the kitchen without my notice.

Damn.

In silence I looked to him, unsure of what to do. Like an animal pinned in a corner by a predator, I wasn't sure on how best to react.

Without a word he stepped closer, I now noticed a half full bottle in his hand as he lumbered toward me. In his movement he picked up a clean glass resting on the counter from when I had done the dishes earlier that morning.

The air felt as if it had paused as he plopped down onto the chair across from me. Now we both sat at the kitchen table. Father and son.

He poured some of his whiskey into the glass and proceeded to drink it in silence.

After a moment or two I slowly moved to continue eating. He had dropped his argument over the food in favor of drinking himself further into a stupor.

I calmly ate, trying my best not to provoke him, all the while disgusted by his presence being so close to me. I needed to finish eating and get out. Go to my room and get away from him. How I loathed him. My Mother's murderer.

"You know...you've been awful quiet around here lately, Albert." he spoke.

I chewed and swallowed, not daring to respond.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that after all that happened....that you didn't like me very much." He mused, before downing the whole glass of whiskey.

"It's alright though. It's alright. I understand. I mean, I don't like me either." He continued looking off from me, his eyes glassy.

Again I said nothing.

Slowly he turned back to me, his eyes growing bitter again.

"What? You think that's funny?" He spat with a filthy look.

I looked to him with pleading eyes as my anxiety rose within me.

"You think that's a bloody joke?!" He shouted, instantly throwing the empty glass cup at my plate - shattering it.

Reflective glass shards flew from the table spraying at and around me. I jumped but looked to my plate in shock. Had I been hurt? Cut? I didn't know.

Suddenly my chair was pulled from the table as he stood over me.

"Clean it up!" He shouted in my face. I winced.

"Clean it up!" He shouted again looking at the table.

In a swift movement he swiped his arm across the kitchen table and glasses and my dinner plate came smashing down onto the floor around me.

"Clean it up, god damn it!" He shouted again as I got up from my seat to begin cleaning the pieces of glass up in fear of what might happen if I objected.

"That's right, clean it up you piece of shit!" He shouted again.

I winced but continued to pick up the pieces of glass and put them in one hand. It was useless I needed to throw them away. I needed a broom. I needed to get out.

"I need a broom." I whimpered, knowing speaking would only make things worse but not having a choice.

"What?" He shouted down.

"I need to dispose of these pieces and get a broom." I said, this time at a normal volume.

He looked down at me saying nothing.

Glancing up and about I didn't know what to do.

Silently I swallowed and moved to my feet slowly.

He did nothing.

Nodding slowly I moved to the garbage can in the corner when suddenly he attacked me.

Pushing my body harshly against the wall he pinned me by my neck with the strength of a tiger. His eyes daggers piercing into my own.

I froze, looking back to him with wide eyes in some feeble attempt to not show anymore fear than I already had.

He looked into me with something that I could only call hatred.

"What did we talk about?" He spat in my face, his voice now low and serious.

I remained silent.

Suddenly he punched me across the face, jerking my head to one side with the harsh abrupt hit.

It hurt.

He grabbed my jaw and turned my head to look back to him again, my eyes beginning to water from the pain but my pride not allowing myself to show him weakness.

"What did we talk about?" He spoke slower and even more intense.

"Respect and responsibility." I answered, knowing he wanted me to speak now.

"That's right. Now, apologize." He demanded calmly.

Looking into his eyes my hatred grew.

"I'm sorry." I stated, every fiber of my being hating myself for it.

"How many times, Albert? How many times do we have to go over this?" He rolled his eyes. 

Swiftly he punched me in the gut. Instantly it took my breath away as it forced a violent cough from me, spit leaving my lips and onto the floor. I almost couldn't catch my breath again as a few more coughs pushed from me.

"Try again." He insisted.

"I'm s-sorry, Sir." I said between coughs.

"Nothing about your behavior is acceptable. Nothing!" He shouted.

I tried to fight back a few more coughs as I looked to him.

"But you're going to make up for it. You're going to clean this damn kitchen up, and you're going to give your old man a little peace. Alright? Is that too much to ask for? A little peace and quiet?" He spoke, his breath stinking of alcohol.

"Now...you're going to go get the broom and clean this up like the good, respectful son that you are. Isn't that right?" He asked, his tone threatening.

"Isn't that right?!" He roared in my face with a fury.

My eyes burned as they watered up, I could feel my chin quivering in fear and defenselessness. What kind of a man was I that I was forced to cower before this drunken monster? It was demeaning, it was spine breaking, it was soul crushing.

"Yes, Sir." I bit my tongue to keep from showing my pain.

Letting out a sigh he looked down and shifted his weight to his other foot.

"I couldn't hear you." He whispered, locking his eyes back onto mine.

"Yes, S-Sir." I repeated, my jaw clenching from the fear.

"Clean this shit up." He calmly threatened before turning and leaving the room.

My steel blue eyes watched his every move as my body stayed frozen until I was sure he was gone.

Quietly my breath turned to silent weeping as my eyes released the tears I had been holding back, my head hanging low as helplessness befell me.

Looking over the kitchen it was in shambles.

I was in hell.

My life was hell.

Pure, unimaginable hell.


	19. The Invitation

Thursday.

I walked into the schoolhouse that day with my hands in wraps again and worn out clothes on my back. A bruise showed on my jaw but I hid it well with my hair when tilting my head down.

Fellow students eyed me suspiciously, as if they knew something I didn't. I moved past them to my desk when I noticed something awaiting me there.

An envelope.

With my name on it, no less.

What sort of trick was this?

Sitting down with a cold expression on my features I took the envelope in my hands.

Raising a brow I opened it.

Inside was a card.

A eggshell white paper card with an orange pumpkin with a face on it. Ontop of the pumpkin sat a little girl dressed in all black with a pointed hat and a black cat on her lap. On either side of the pumpkin were broomsticks and ontop of the broomsticks was a string leading to the other broomstick with apples hanging from the string. Below the pumpkin were the caligraphic words: Hallowe'en Greetings.

Opening the card I found a hand written message that read,

 _Witches' hat and harvest moon,_  
_Ghosts that dance to haunted tune._  
_Apples, goodies, food galore_  
_this Hallowe'en party will have all this and more!_

 _You're invited to The Monaghan's residence_  
_for a spook-tacular masquerade evening._  
_October 31st at 6 o'clock sharp._

Down at the bottom a smaller note was written reading,  
_Please come Albert, it'll be fun. - Janet Monaghan_

Perplexed I scanned the words again.

A halloween party?

Me?

Invited to a party?

This was the first time in all my life that I had received an invitation to a party.

It had to be a mistake, it wasn't for me, it couldn't be.

But there staring back at me was my own name....

_Please come **Albert,** it'll be fun. - Janet Monaghan_

The envelope too looked at me with my name written across it.

It was for me.

A soft smile crept across my face.

Janet Monaghan was Lilybelle's friend, surely Lilybelle had put a word in for me.

Lilybelle must have advocated for me to get an invitation.

Looking over to Lilybelle who was too busy chatting to other girls in the schoolhouse to notice me, I smiled. I watched her with my steal blue eyes as her kindness touched my soul.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So you got an invitation, don't let it go to your head, Caine." Anthony snarked from another row of desks.

Turning myself back to my books I put the invitation inside my jacket pocket for safe keeping.

Something warmed me from inside.

A change in the air, I could feel it.

Perhaps things were beginning to look up.

Besides tomorrow I had a job to do, I hadn't forgotten about that milk man.

Then I would be able to attend medical school and finally fulfill my passion.

After another abysmal day of schoolwork it was finally time to go home. Surprisingly Kessel hadn't instructed me to stay late that day. Perhaps I had escaped his mind, now was my chance to get out quickly before he noticed.

Gathering my things I shuffled out of the schoolhouse with the other students, hopefully fading into the crowd.

Yes!

I had escaped him!

I was free!

No after school scrubbing for me today!

Then I noticed who was ahead of me - Lilybelle and Janet.

"Lilybelle!" I spoke, the name escaping my lips without thought.

"Albert?" Lilybelle replied, eyes wide as she turned around to see me.

"I didn't know you where there!" She smiled.

I gave a small smile back.

"How are you? How is your shoulder?" I asked, stepping up to walk with them.

"Wow, you're taller up close." Janet interrupted.

Looking over to her I noticed she was about the same height as Lilybelle. Did Lilybelle think me tall? Did she think me too tall?

"Albert, you know Janet, right?" Lilybelle interjected.

Not really.

"Yes ofcourse." I lied. "While we haven't formally been introduced, I do know of you, Janet. You sit up front by Lilybelle, you always read aloud clean and clear in front of the class like Lilybelle and unlike a lot of the others." I spoke with a calm grin, over compensating a bit.

Janet and Lilybelle looked to one another with sly smiles.

My eyes narrowed confused but then they turned back to me.

"Well consider yourselves formally introduced then." Lilybelle smirked, before holding to my arm.

"Walk with us, won't you Albert? We were discussing the halloween party! You are going, aren't you?" Lilybelle chirped.

Her touch was so warm.

"Oh uh, yes. I wouldn't miss it for the world, Lilybelle." My eyes twinkled to her's.

"Oh, then you two will be going together I suppose?" Janet smirked.

I nearly lost my footing as we walked along, shocked at Janet's words. Lilybelle though seemed unfazed.

"Well seeing as I haven't been properly asked yet, I don't know who I'll be going with." Lilybelle answered, her brows raised as she looked down her nose to Janet.

I felt my cheeks heating up as my stomach shriveled inside me, I did my best to hide it well.

Clearing my throat I forced myself to regain composure as we walked on.

"It's a masquerade, is it?" I questioned, in a desperate plea for a change of subject.

"Oh ofcourse, it is Halloween after all. What's a party on halloween night without costumes?" Janet smiled impishly.

"What are you going as, Janet?" Lilybelle asked, beginning to stray more towards me and away from Janet by a few inches.

"It's a surprise! You'll have to wait and see come halloween night." Janet grinned. "How about you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I haven't given it too much thought yet. I'm sure I'll find something though." Lilybelle smiled, bringing a finger to her chin delicately as her big pecan colored eyes looked up towards the tree tops in thought.

"What about you, Albert?" Janet chirped.

Damn it, I changed the subject and still an uncomfortable wave fell over me.

"Me?" I questioned, trying to give myself a moment to think of an answer.

I hadn't thought about a costume at all.

I didn't have a costume to wear at all, come to think of it.

"Yes, you!" Janet giggled.

"Oh what will you be going as Albert? Maybe it'll give me some ideas!" Lilybelle grinned.

"Well, are they quite mandatory?" I raised a brow to Janet, an unsure smile on my face.

Both girls gasped.

"Albert!" Lilybelle exclaimed in a hushed tone. "Ofcourse they're quite mandatory! It's a halloween party, you have to dress up!" She explained, clearly unhappy with my attempt to weasel out of a costume, still her light hearted demeanor hadn't escaped her as she spoke to me.

"Very mandatory." Janet added with a playful 'hmph!'

Rolling my eyes with a short sigh, I looked back to Lilybelle.

"Well then I'll need some time to think over my costume, won't I?" I explained giving a sly smirk.

We continued walking along for a short while more until we reached a cross road.

One direction went to Janet's family's country home, the other went into town where Lilybelle's home was and the house I resided in sat.

This would be my chance to walk Lilybelle home!

We would have some moments alone together, away from our peers.

Perhaps we might even have the privacy to allow the possibility that I could ask her to the Halloween party.

Oh god, my stomach was in my chest at the thought of it.

Asking Lilybelle to attend the party with me, as my date?

Lord, it was a lot to bear.

What if she said no?

I wouldn't blame her if she did, after all we're both so young and I am...not the most popular person to be seen with.

Oh god, we were coming up on the crossroads now.

"Oh this is my turn off, see you tomorrow then Albert!" Janet smiled, taking Lilybelle's arm in her own.

Lilybelle released me from her grasp as my eyes widened slightly.

What?

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Oh I'm going to Janet's for dinner tonight, our parents arranged it. They'll be collecting me later on tonight because I wanted to help plan the party." Lilybelle explained with a sweet look on her features.

"Oh..." was all I could muster out.

Disappointment rained down on me as I realized that I wouldn't be allowed time alone with Lilybelle as I walked her home. Janet had stolen her from me. Perhaps it was for the best.

Perhaps it was better if I wasn't given the chance to embarass myself in front of Lilybelle by asking her to the party.

"See you, Albert!" Lilybelle chimed, waving me off as she and Janet began down the other dirt road.

I stood there and gave a nod, returning my hands to my pockets.

Watching them walking away I felt something wilting and yet growing within me.

God, I was missing my chance.

I should do something!

But no, I couldn't.

I couldn't risk messing up the way things were.

And yet...

"Lilybelle?" I called.

Shock lining my own features at myself as she turned back around to look to me.

I watched as she said something to Janet then unlocked arms and began towards me.

Her dress moving in the chilling autumn breeze as she quickened over to me.

"Yes?" She softly smiled and looked up to me.

Looking over her shoulder I saw Janet was watching us.

Something inside me refused to care though.

"Lilybelle, I had a thought. An idea, really. I wanted to know what you thought. You see, if you aren't attending the halloween party with anyone yet and well, goodness knows I won't be. I mean unless- but then again, I meant to say that if it were alright with you perhaps giving it a thought we could...I mean if you hadn't something better or other plans, we could..." I fell over my own words, anxiety rising within me as internally I screamed from the situation I had gotten myself in.

God, what a fool I was!

Stupid, Albert! Simply stupid!

What did you think was going to happen, you stupid fool!?

"Albert, are you asking me to Janet's Halloween Party?" Lilybelle questioned.

I felt my breath escape me, surely I was about to die.

"If it would be odd or you had other plans, it's perfectly alright if-" I desperately tried to give her and myself a way out from the horrible spot I had put us in.

What an idiot, Albert!

"Ofcourse I'll go with you." Lilybelle smiled.

"Absolutely, I understand. I hope I didn't upset you or- wait, what did you say?" My eyes wider than ever before.

"I said I'd happily be your date to the Halloween Party, Albert!" Lilybelle giggled, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink.

Oh my god, slap me I must be dreaming.

"Really?" I nearly gasped, a grin breaking across my face as I took a small step back.

"We'll have to coordinate our costumes now, you and I." She gave a wink and a sassy smile before beginning towards Janet again.

"Pick me up at five!" She chimed back to me with a playful wave goodbye.

I was shocked.

This had actually worked out better than I could have dreamed.

"Of course! Enjoy your evening, ladies!" I yelled to them with a grin.

They both giggled to one another while running off down the road.

Things were beginning to look up.

I was taking Lilybelle to a party!

A party I had been invited to!

A party Lilybelle and I would attend as dates!

But damn it, where was I going to get a costume?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I promised you all some cute teenage moments - didn't I? ;)  
> Things are about to get VERY interesting in the next coming chapters, so don't say I didn't warn you!


	20. Friday

That Friday morning I awoke in my dismal grey bedroom, the October winds brushing against my pane glass window. With a yawn I moved from my lumpy old mattress and across the cold wooden floor. As usual I quickly dressed myself and combed my hair, noting today it was a bit greasy but I hadn't any time to do much about it.

As I looked to my reflection in the old stained mirror above my dresser, my eyes moved over myself. I looked so different now. I looked older than when I had been a young child. My hair had grown out, longer than ever before. My legs had grown, and my face. But perhaps the most noticeable difference, at least to myself, was in my eyes. I could see through myself, someone had to after all, and I could see the age my life had afflicted me with in my eyes. They weren't the eyes of a normal teenage boy. They were the eyes of a tired and broken soul. 

It was in these small moments of silence and unmoving that I could hear the sound of snoring echoing through out the house. Blinking I turned from my thoughts and glared to my bedroom door. He was snoring.

God how I hated him. The drunkard. When I had returned to this hollow home from school yesterday I had lucked out more than I would have dared dream, he had drunken himself into a deep sleep up in his bedroom. My Mother's bedroom. He hadn't woken up since. Call me ghastly, I don't care - I prayed he'd be dead when I awoke. Alcohol poisoning. But alas, he was snoring. Still breathing. Still alive.

Quietly so as not to tempt fate and wake the beast I snuck downstairs and packed my lunch pale for the day. A mostly empty jar of jam and an old cracker tin I had found the night prior with a few crackers still in it. Today would be a good day indeed with this hearty meal.

I took my pale in hand along with a medical journal and a school book tucked under my arm and began through the kitchen doorway.

Walking through the kitchen doorway and past the foot of the stairs was never an easy thing. Hearing my shoes click across the wooden floor that once was covered in a pool of blood wasn't something that I could ignore. It was haunting, this spot in the house. Sometimes I would blink and still see my Mother's body, lying just there...limp and bruised.

Other times I would refuse to look. I would tighten my eyes shut as hard as I could as I made my way past the stairs - but then I would hear them. Whispers of the past. Remnants of that fight, so long ago. My father screaming, my mother crying, and cards scattering.

How that night haunted me.

Leaving the most bitter taste in my mouth. It made my hate. It made me mourn. It made me weak. It made me strong. It...made me...

Sometimes one has to rescue oneself from their own thoughts, and this was one of those times. No matter how much guilt would riddle me over it I had to turn my thoughts to the present. To the here and now. I was now fifteen years old. I was to be attending a Hallowe'en party with Lilybelle. Lilybelle...she had grown older too. Looking more and more like a lady every day.

Oh god, the Hallowe'en Party. I had nearly forgotten, I needed some form of costume. Lilybelle would be disappointed if I showed up in any less than some sort of theatrical frock. It was frivolous to me, but she seemed to enjoy the idea so much - I couldn't dare spoil it for her. I would have to find something...but how?

Now realigning my thoughts to the day ahead of me I moved down the hallway of the first floor of the house and to the front door. Reaching out for the doorknob, while still in thought over that stupid costume, I nearly jolted back in surprise as a sudden and swift knocking came from the door.

Now who could that be...?

Opening the door my eyes found the sight of a tall and burly man with a well kept black beard and mustache. His hair was curly yet combed and just as black as his beard. He seemed to be dressed in a well enough suit and holding some papers under his arm.

"Is there a Mr.Henry Caine home?" the man asked, his brow raised.

Licking my lips my eyes flickered behind me into the house then back to the man. 

"I'm afraid not. Last I heard he was out on business, but I don't know where." I lied.

"Ah, I see...Do you have any knowledge on when he'll be back?" the man pressed.

"What is this about?" I questioned, now raising my brow back to him in a passively testy way.

"I'm with the bank. Payment of the house is far behind and I've been sent to give the man of the house this notice of default. It issues that if in ninety days you cannot pay your fines on the estate, that we will have no choice but to move forward with the foreclosure process. In short bills need to be paid, and if not the bank is taking ownership of the house." He explained, coldly and seeming to enjoy his authority on the matter.

"Payment? I assure you sir, there's been an error!" I reasoned. My father was a bad drunk, but was he truly so gone that he hadn't even been paying any of the bills at all?

"Rest assured, we at the bank have looked into it and there are no errors. Here." he handed me the document, "Take this, and be sure that your father gets it." He nodded and headed off from our door steps into the street. 

I stood there in shock as I looked to the crisp white bank issued document in my hand.

They were going to take our house away.

We had no other place to go. We had no other house. We would be kicked to the streets!

Oh dear god, what were we going to do?

The rest of that day the knowledge of our debt weighed on me in school. I tried, but I couldn't focus. That sinister white document peered at me from my jacket pocket. It hissed at me as I tried to study. It haunted me like a restless spirit. 

Aside from that bloody paper though, everything that day was going....irrationally decent. No one had started with me. The other students were all busy chatting away over the party and seasonal festivities. They were focused on their studies and even Kessel seemed in an unnormally upbeat mood as he only ignored me completely that day, aside from one swift crack from his yardstick across the back of my neck for working on my multiplication tables before math had begun for the day. 

Every now and then Lilybelle and Janet looked over to me with a smile or a giggle. I was going to attempt to wave to them one time when Lilybelle grinned to me, but Kessel turned back to the classroom too fast for me to be able to sneak the greeting to her. 

Everything was going well...aside from that malevolent paper from the bank.

Near the end of the school day Kessel decided to keep me after school to scrub the floor boards as usual. This time I was allowed a rag but splinters still pierced in my fingers, and nothing stings quite the same as soap suds and dirt scratching away at a bleeding splinter wound. However as I scrubbed I did manage to piece some things together to keep my mind occupied from the bank troubles. As Kessel read a small book with a calm smile on his face, I noticed a pink ribbon as a bookmark dangling from it. The book was leather-bound and formed in the leather cover read the word: POETRY. Narrowing my eyes at the middle aged man I recognized the look on his face, putting two and two together - he had met a woman. That's why he had been suddenly in such a good mood as of late. 

Trying to hide snickers that fought to escape my mouth I continued scrubbing the wooden planks of the schoolhouse floor. I couldn't even imagine such a dim witted and unpleasant man as him with a woman, it was just humorous to even think about. Not to mention his position as schoolmaster, no less. I could only imagine the whispers around town about the schoolmaster courting a woman. A schoolmaster! Everyone knows a schoolmaster's lifestyle is the lifestyle of a single man, not a wanting to start a family like some sort of bachelor - oh lord, him? Kessel? A bachelor?! Kessel staring a family! Kessel juniors running amok to slap the whole class with rulers and yard sticks?! Could you imagine such a thing? Oh look at my thoughts taking off on me, oh good lord! I needed a release from this silence to laugh myself into a fit over it all. 

Finishing up the floorboards I returned the rag to the bucket full of brown soapy water beside me and looked over to Kessel. "Excuse me, Mr.Kessel? I've finished scrubbing the floors." I explained.

Raising a brow to me his smile dropped into a look of annoyance with me. "And what about the chalk board?"

"All cleaned." I answered.

"The chalk board erasers...?" He questioned, believing he had caught me skipping out on a chore.

"Already done." I nodded.

Moving the book further out of his face he eyed the schoolhouse room, looking for any last minute chore he could pull out of his arsenal and enslave me further with. After a long moment of his eyes moving around the room as I stood there silently he finally rested his eyes back to mine.

"Fine. You're done for the day. Go home and study, at the rate you were at today you'll be sure to fail the quiz on Tuesday if you don't study." He relented, his voice not even attempting to hide his irritation with me. 

I nodded and walked out the door to my freedom from that god awful schoolhouse.

The cold October air had a chill to it as the sun began to move westward, the sky showing shades of orange and purple from the oncoming sunset. 

It was Friday.

I needed to move quickly. 

I needed to get to that manor.

It was time.

I ran through fields and farms. My scuffed shoes carried me as fast as I could go across Carey's country fiends and wooded paths.

ShadyOak Cemetery was on the opposite side of town from where Kessel's schoolhouse sat, so every minute counted as I dashed my way to the manor.

Past cows, wheat, and corn I ran until the sky was illuminated all by orange and red hues as the sun lowered in the distance.

I found myself on the cobblestone road that led to the front gates of the old mansion that overlooked ShadyOak when I stopped. No, this was a bad move. I couldn't just walk up through the front gates, I needed to be more sneaky so no one would spot me.

The back entrance, that's where I needed to be.

Moving through some bushes and wooded area I made my way behind the estate, back to the second entrance - the official cemetery entrance. This was my way in.

Walking up the gravel road to the cemetery gates I made my way past tombstones and headstones, statues of angels and grave obelisks until I could see the back of the old colonial mansion. 

I snuck past the back porch and up to a window. Listening first I heard nothing so I stood up and peaked inside.

It was the kitchen.

Perfect, this would most likely be where the milkman would enter in from. Holding onto the window sill for support I tried to get a better look. There was a fresh pie nearby, cooling off in the other window that was open. 

Narrowing my eyes I stepped away from the window and over to the open window with the pie. I couldn't help but smell the air as the autumn breeze carried the sweet smell of apple cinnamon pie. It smelled delicious...It smelled....like how mother used to make her pies.

My hand rested on the window sill as the intoxicating aroma of once familiar food enchanted me, my stomach desperately yearning for something to fill it for once like my mother's pies had years ago.

Suddenly a sound pulled me from my day dreaming of food into reality as a brick on the window sill moved. It was loose, my hand resting on it had moved it.

Lifting the brick from it's place among the others I found a piece of paper. Smirking to myself at the find I opened the note and read it...

_The old toad won't let me out of his sight!_   
_I feel something isn't right, like he knows._   
_My love I don't ever want to part from you but you should leave town for a week._   
_When you come back find me in the garden at three o'clock on the 12th and we shall run away together._

_I will take all of my jewelry and furs, you just need to get us a carraige and we'll make our escape._   
_I left a sachel of money for you to get the carraige with, find it with Elizabeth Yearning under the roses._   
_I love you darling, we shall soon be together._   
_Now go before he catches onto us!_   
_xoxo_   
_\- Your Camella._

Reading such a dastardly conspiracy made me sick. A married woman with a husband who loves her, stealing from him and running off with a scoundrel? How despicable. This milkman certainly had it coming.

Taking the note I folded it and put it in my own pocket. I moved to place the brick back to where it belonged when I stopped. 

Elizabeth Yearning under the roses.

It dawned on me, she hadn't left the money with a person - she had left the bag of money out in the graveyard with an Elizabeth Yearning's tombstone!

A sly look slithered across my features as I pulled the note from my pocket, being sure not to grab the bank document on accident, and placed it back under the brick - only this time sticking out a bit for added theatrics.

The milk man would find this note, oh yes he would find it alright, and it would lead him straight to the graveyard...

Straight to where I would be waiting for him...


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains brutality, violence, and murder. You have been warned.

As the autumn moon began showing in the ever darkening sunset sky, I snuck about the graveyard hunting for the Elizabeth Yearning headstone. The cemetery was big and sprawling but trees and plants gave me coverage to not be seen. No one was around but I didn't want to get spotted by someone within the mansion that overlooked the hollowed grounds.

ShadyOak lived up to it's name as strong oak trees sprouted from the grassy earth all over, and littered the ground in their dead October leaves. My shoes crunched through the leaves and twigs without too much noise as I tried to remain as silent as possible on the off chance someone was nearby and I hadn't noticed or seen them yet.

No. No one was around, I was beginning to become sure of it.

Passing tombstones, sculpted angels, and even gothic mausoleums I continued my search - I had to find this Elizabeth Yearning's grave.

Finally I stopped short, my pupils dilating a bit at the realization. That smell.

Roses.

There were roses nearby.

_Elizabeth Yearning under the roses._

Elizabeth Yearning couldn't have been too far. I kept looking, following my nose to track down the source of the floral aroma that would no doubt lead me to a bush of roses.

The sunset lowered more as time rushed me in my quest, a small panic rose within me if I couldn't find this damned grave in time.

And then there it was - a large over grown and unkept rose bush. Each rose as red as blood and bobbing in the evening breeze. The rose bush almost seemed to grow from the base of the wall of a mausoleum. It wasn't a grand one, rather just a simple mausoleum, no stained glass or decorative stone work.

The only thing that stood out on the dull stone mausoleum was a metal plaque nailed into the simple grey wall reading : YEARNING.

Underneath the surname title was a small list of first names, a family grave no doubt.

_Fredrick_

_Penelope_

_Edgar_

_Nelson_

_Elizabeth_

_Theodore_

Elizabeth! Elizabeth Yearning, I had found her grave and the rose bush mentioned in the note. This was the place, this had to be the place that this wretched milk man would come looking for his lover's money. A devilish look befell my face as my eyes narrowed and my lips curled in a grin.

Stepping over to the roses I bent down on one knee and looked beneath their thorny vines and what did my wandering eye see, but a purple velvet draw string bag sitting all alone by itself.

Reaching under the leaves, thorns, and petals I took hold of the small bag and pulled it out in my hand. Some parcels of dead leaves and dirt clung to the velvet fabric of the bag as I looked it over.

For a moment my mind wandered...

I wondered how much coin was in the bag. I felt...I really felt the need for money, like something had struck me hard from within my chest.

This was what I needed so desperately...this what I held in my hand now.

Blasted metal and paper which held more value to me in this moment than it should have.

I could just take it.

Take this bag of coins and run. Hope it might pay for the house or medical school, and...

And what, Albert? Abandon your word? You made a deal with Mr.Buckley and Mr.Timley. You agreed on a verbal contract as a man and would get paid, no doubt, far more than anything this little bag held, I thought to myself.

Waking up from my thoughts of weakness I reminded myself of why I was here to begin with - The Milk Man.

Looking over the cemetery from what I could see while beside this rose bush I saw no one. The sky turned more red now than orange as sunset began giving it's last show of color before it would end.

He would be here soon, I needed to get this over with.

Reaching under the rose bush again I placed the bag back under the thorns, deep deep under the thorns. I pushed the bag as far back as I could reach and then some. I would make it as difficult as possible for this milk man to reach the bag but keeping it within clear eye sight so that I might buy myself more time to surprise him as he bent down beneath the red roses. After situating the bag of money beneath the bush I crawled out from under the roses myself and stood to my feet. Looking over my surroundings I figured my best move would be to hide behind the rose bush, so he wouldn't detect me until I wanted him to.

Moving around the roses I found the back of the mausoleum, it was odd to me though because for some reason there was a large pile of what looked to be perhaps dirt, then suddenly to my fright there was no ground beneath my forward foot!

Gasping in surprise I nearly fell backward as I tried to regain my footing.

Looking down onto the ground infront of me there was a large hole. It was a big rectangular hole in the ground freshly dug up with a closed casket at the bottom of it. Looking up from the hole I now realized the pile of dirt was from this freshly dug grave, and I now noticed two shovels resting on the back wall of the mausoleum.

How very odd. An unburied grave, just left uncovered at the bottom of a hole. My brows met in confusion. The cemetery seemed well kept enough, why was this grave left open?

Snap!

Quickly in a jolt of a movement I crouched down behind the back wall of the mausoleum at the sound. My heart beat fastened as my adrenaline began rising. It was him, it had to be...The Milk Man.

Peeking around the corner I watched as a man approached, the paper note in hand and a white cap on his head. It was indeed him.

I watched stealthily as he approached the rose bush and searched beneath it. Now was my chance.

Turning around against the stone wall my eyes hunted for something. The shovels. Taking a shovel in hand I gathered my courage to do what needed to be done. Taking a breath I stepped out from behind the wall.

He hadn't noticed me and simply cussed under his breath as he reached further and further under the bush.

Locking my eyes on him I moved around the bush, stepping up behind him. Still he hadn't noticed.

What was I supposed to do? What way was best to handle this? God you're so stupid, Albert! I should have planned this. I should have thought up plans while I was at school. I should have figured out my course of action while I was scrubbing away at Kessel's damn floorboards, that's what I should have done!

Suddenly he jumped slightly and cussed in pain of piercing himself on a thorn.

I hadn't fully realized what he was doing though, and in fear and surprise I panicked - unsure of what to do and what I was even doing currently, my body was simply taken over by something explainable as I raised the shovel over my head and brought it down with such fierce intensity I didn't even know I had and slammed the metal head into the man's back.

I heard a loud crack sound as he exclaimed and fell face first into the rose bush, thorns no doubt instantly piercing his skin all over.

My eyes widened some but otherwise I remained remarkably calm. It was too late to think out a plan now. It was too late to do anything now. I just had to act. Give into my natural reflexes and do what needed to be done.

"Ah! Fuck! What the hell?" the man spat into the flowers as he slowly tried to raise himself from the bush.

"That's no way to greet someone, now is it? What if I had been your precious Camella?" I smirked like the devil.

Bringing the shovel up over my shoulder I looked over the man. His body quivered in pain as he attempted to lift himself up from the ground, but he was too weak.

"Who's there?" He gasped in fear, while pushing himself to roll over onto his back. Sounds of pain escaping his lips as he did so.

Preparing the shovel again in my fists, my cold grey eyes looked down upon the milk man who's face was now covered in streaks of red blood as cuts dotted his face from the thorns when I realized-

"Kessel?" I nearly fell back at the realization as his name jumped from my lips in a whisper.

"Albert?" He replied equally as shocked to see me looking down at him as I was seeing him looking up at me.

It was my school master. It was Kessel. Oh god, it somehow all made sense to me, all the while making no sense at all.

This was the reason he had been reading poetry and in such a jolly mood anymore. This was his mystery lover - Mr.Buckley's wife!

"You?" Kessel coughed as blood began trickling from his mouth.

"You're the one who's been having an affair with Mr.Buckley's wife?" I blinked, my eyes as wide as the moon.

"I love her! How dare you! What are you even doing here?" Kessel grew bitter, realizing he had been caught - and in more ways than one.

"Mr.Buckley sends his regards, adulterer." I spoke grimly and stood strong against him.

"You're going to regret the day you were born, Caine! You think scrubbing is a chore? Wait until you meet the nightmares I have in store for you now!" He spoke through gritted teeth as he began pulling himself to his feet while using the mausoleum wall for support.

Rage grew within me. My vision turned red at the thought of all the chores I had done for this man over the years and how he had always treated me. From day one treating me like horse maneur beneath his shoe.

"No more!" I screamed in fury, raising the shovel over my head and bringing the metal scoop head of the tool down onto his skull as hard as I could.

The collision made a loud thud sound as he fell onto the ground once more.

Taking a step in anger I loomed over him, now I was in charge.

"You have always been a thorn in my side, Kessel. You've treated me like an unwanted slave since the moment I met you and all I have ever done has been to try and earn some form of respect from you. That you would have to grant me good grades for my hard work. No matter what I did, how much I studied, how hard I scrubbed your floors and grime - it was never enough for you. You hate me, yes sir admit it! You hate me!" I spoke in a fierce tongue over him, years of resentment building with each word I spat.

"Albert, stop! Let's talk this through. Maybe I have been a little harsh but-" Kessel tried to speak between hacking up more blood.

"No, you stop. Stop acting like you've anything to say that I wish to hear. All this time you were mocking me, hitting me with your yard stick, and ensuring I leave your schoolhouse after dark and with blooded knuckles...all that time you were having an affair with a married woman. How despicable. The town looks to you to teach their children. Not only lessons of literature and math, but of morality and right from wrong..." I explained, disgusted with the worm of a man at my feet.

"Please, Albert, don't!" He cried, blood and tears running down his face.

"I can't allow you to continue your legacy of disgrace. No. No more." I spoke gravely.

"Help! Somebody help me!" He cried, gasping for air as blood continued to leak from his lips.

"No! No more scrubbing! No more bleeding from your floors! No more punishments!" I raged, bringing the heavy metal end of the shovel down on him again and again and again as I spoke.

Crashing it violently into his skull, into his back, into his spine!

"Die you piece of dirt!" I spat through gritted teeth as I brought the shovel down again and again and again.

It felt amazing, empowering. The best feeling I had ever felt in my life.

His body shook violently as more blood was coughed up, I kept hitting again and again and again and again and again until...

it stopped.

He stopped.

Just like that, his shaking body stopped.

A moment of silence followed as the wind tried to cool me from the sweat I was nearly about to break out into.

My steel blue eyes moved over his limp and bloodied body.

I stopped him.

The October winds wisped through my out grown hair as I looked down at what was once my school master.

Dropping the shovel onto the grass beneath me I moved from standing over him.

Kneeling down beside him on my knees I continued to look him over.

How strange it was, to see him like this.

It felt so good. Like a release.

There was no stress in my body, my mind in a state of calm serenity.

He was dead.

Taking a silent breath and looking him over, something began to dawn slowly in my mind.

Oh god, he was dead.

Oh lord, I was the reason he was dead.

Oh my god, I'm a murderer!

Just like my father...

That thought echoed through out my body instantly filling me with stress once more.

"Oh my god..." I let out collapsing forward, my hands in the grass and dirt for support as I hunched over.

My eyes widened again as they flashed about in a frenzy. Things began spinning as my stomach churned.

Just like my father, a murderer just like my father.

Looking to Kessel's bloodied body, his face was hardly recognizable anymore as it had caved in under my shovel, my face ran pale.

Terror befell me as I realized I had become exactly like my father.

Oh god, kill me. Please! Kill me now!

Let me die too. I deserve hell. I deserve the pit for being anything like my father.

I loathed him. I hated him with every beat of my broken heart. And now...?

I had become him. A murderer like him.

Tears ran down my cheeks at what he had made me.

Crying into the grass, I mentally begged God for death. Let me die now, strike me to my death this moment and send me to hell where I belong.

Please.

Please...

I hate myself entirely.

My mother deserved better from me.

I only wanted to be a doctor.

I only wanted to be loved.

I needed to kill myself.

She was too kind to me, my mother...so pure...so beautiful.

Nothing like Kessel.

My mother was a living angel from heaven upon this mortal plane, and my father killed her.

And now I had killed as well...

I had killed Kessel.

How I hated that man.

That liar, that adulterer, that cruel punishment dealer.

He was nothing like my mother.

I cried silently into the hollowed ground of the graveyard.

Suddenly a cracking sound shook me from my thoughts and pulled me back into the present.

My head shot towards the direction of the sound.

It was a squirrel in a nearby tree, jumping from branch to branch when one snapped.

No one was around to see what I had done....yet.

I needed to do something.

I needed to get rid of the body.

Standing up I grabbed onto Kessel's arms and began dragging his body with me as I moved around the rose bush.

Remembering that freshly dug grave I nodded to myself, that would be a good place to put him.

Pulling him with me I dropped him beside the opening of the hole.

Wiping my hands together to get dirt off of them I noticed something.

Something gleaming from his coat pocket.

Bending down I gave into my curiosity.

It was a knife falling from his pocket.

Holding the knife up to look it over, it's sharp blade gleamed at me like a friend.

Perhaps there was a way to right my wrong.

It wasn't cold blooded murder, if it was for science after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to our gruesome first human autopsy coming in the next chapter...
> 
> Also sorry about the delay of posting this, it was actually re-written because the first version I did on July 2nd in the car on my laptop and due to the battery dying it saved none of the chapter. I'll admit I rage quit writing the next few days, and then a lot of personal stuff happened so I didn't have a chance or desire to write more of this until today. So that's why it's taken so long, no worries though the next chapter should be up soon! Thanks for reading!


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